


It's Always A Problem Until It's Not

by ALzzza



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: ALL the comfort, AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon What Canon, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick is also shamelessly using Tim as an excuse to mend his relationship with Jay, Dick is trying, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Go to sleep Tim god, Good Big Brother Dick Grayson, Good Brother Dick Grayson, Good Brother Jason Todd, He is also arguably the only functioning human being, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Anxiety, Implied dissociation maybe?, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd-centric, Jason doesn't mind that much, Jason is a Dork, Jason-Centric, Luckily Jason is a functioning human being and wants to take care of Tim, M/M, Not Really lol, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sort Of, Tim Drake has never been Robin, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Tim Drake is a disaster, Tim Needs to Take Care of Himself, Timeline What Timeline, also, but he's getting better through the power of love, but it's okay because, but that is helping, implied panic attacks, looking at you Dick, there will be, tim drake is tired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-01-07 07:18:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18405812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALzzza/pseuds/ALzzza
Summary: The first time Jason comes into contact with Timothy Drake, he was tailing some crook across the city, about to lose them going into Park Row. He’d heard vaguely about him from Talia, and again in passing with Nightwing. The Bats at-home detective, following all their cases from his computer. Not as good as Babs, from all he could tell, but still good.The second time Jason comes into contact with Timothy Drake he doesn't even realize he did. Jason doesn't want to say this causes some problems but... it causes some problems.AKA the one AU where Tim doesn't take up the Robin mantle because Jason was Robin, he can't be Robin, logic and instead stubborns his way into the Batcave to become something of an Oracle II to the Batfam so Batman doesn't get himself killed. And Bruce can't help himself, basically adopts Tim without his knowledge because 1) neglected child 2) Tim knows all there secret IDs and 3) its TIM.Skip to Jason, Red Hood, meeting Tim accidentally, and basically flirting him to sleep AND NO DICK THAT IS NOT WHAT HAPPENED and we have ourselves a plot. ;)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first DC fic so characters might be OC, sorry about that. Also, most of the info I got is from fanfic though I have read comics containing the boys. ;)
> 
> This fic is going to be multi chapter, expect semi-fast updates because I have most of it written already! For context sake in this fic Tim is 19, Jay is 21 and Dick is 25 years old.
> 
> I would really appreciate if you commented prompts or ideas of some scenes you'd want to see between Tim and Jason because honestly I'm struggling with them at the moment and want to add some more JayTim fun to the story for you guys! I totally think Jason 'I looked after my mum' Todd would do something like this. Also, poor sweet tired Tim what is happening?
> 
> Lol anyway! Next Chapter: More Dick and Jason Bro Time, Plus Jason And Tim Chilling in The Coffee Shop.
> 
> Also, next chap is written and edited. I'm thinking of posting it next week but will post it early if I get 10 comments from you guys! Am I trying to bribe you into commenting? Yes, yes I am.

The first time Jason comes into contact with Timothy Drake, he was tailing some crook across the city, about to lose them going into Park Row. He’d heard vaguely about him from Talia, and again in passing with Nightwing. The Bats at-home detective, following all their cases from his computer. Not as good as Babs, from all he could tell, but still _good_.

 

Jason’s not going to admit that he swerved when a voice suddenly spoke up through his comm, “I’ve got them on the security cams, Hood. Cut through the next street.”

 

After a moment of deliberation, Jason just shrugged, turning left. He figured it probably wasn’t a trap set up by Bats, but mostly he just really needed to catch this guy and he was _tired_ after two days of little to no sleep.

 

By the time he had the location of their next drop, illegal firearms coming in next Tuesday, cuffing the runaway thugs to the nearest pole, he could be less concerned about getting the elusive Timothy Drake’s help. Besides, he wasn't trying to start a conversation and Jason sure as hell wasn’t going to.

 

It occurred a handful of times after that much the same; his comm would spring to life to deliver a couple of sentences then flash off again like nothing had happened.

 

It was the opposite of a problem until he was fighting against two dozen thugs stripped of his guns, and _Nightwing_ showed up.

 

“Red!” The asshole sounded way to cheerful, dropping down next to him not waiting a second before sweeping one of the thug’s feet out from under them. And Jason really wanted to punch _him_ in the face.

 

“T said you could use an assist!” Jason didn’t turn around, punching the closest baddie in the face with more force than strictly necessary. Really, they were kind of stupid not to be running, hell they should have ran the second he’d downed three of them. Now, they were just kidding themselves, thinking they stood a chance against both, Red Hood _and_ Nightwing.

 

“What the hell asshole. I did not need a rescue from Mr. Perfect Acrobatics.” He muttered into his helmet, choosing to believe Timothy would hear him.

 

The rest of the thugs were unconscious seconds later, sirens approaching on the street outside. Jason walked over to where they’d left his guns easily stepping over the pile of bodies he and Nightwing had left in their wake. He checked his guns swiftly before holstering them. Nightwing trailing behind, watching.

 

“Come on, Red, let’s get out of here.” Dickhead said like they were friends, “I want Chinese.”

 

Twenty minutes later and Jason doesn’t know how he ended up on some building’s fire escape, helmet off, take away container perched on his lap, Dick by his side making elated sounds as he dug into his food. He blames his stomach then feels distinctly betrayed by that fact.

 

“What’s the deal with T anyway?” He asks, because if he has to spend time with Dick then he’s making the most of it. “He keeps hacking my comms for like two seconds then never talking to me again.”

 

Dick hummed, “Yeah he does that a lot. Kind of annoying. You get used to it though,” – he swallowed another mouth full of food— “He’s like... Our second Oracle. The kids a genius, showed up after you,” – Dick shifted around, uncomfortable— “y’know, tells B he knows all our secret IDs. He’d been running around the rooftops taking pictures of us and recognized one of my moves.

 

“He tried to get me to go back to B. Some scrawny kid showing up in my apartment in Bludhaven,” Dick scoffed a smile twisting on his lips, looked out across the city as he remembered, “Worked about as well as you’d imagine. Next thing I know he’s stubborning his way into the Manor, hanging around the cave every night ‘cause he thought B was gonna get himself killed.”

 

Jason’s throat constricted uncomfortably at that, but he ignored it, watching ‘Wing from the corner of his eye. Dick looked over at Jason and smiled, eyes flashing before saying, “You were his favorite Robin, y’know.” –And Jason choked on his food, _what_ — “I think that’s why he was so adamant on not going out as Robin, the opposite of us on that front really,” Dick grinned at Jason like that hadn’t caused so many problems between them before he’d gotten killed.

 

“S’was cute. Didn’t want to tarnish your memory, not that he could’ve of course but,” Dick shrugged his shoulders turning back to his food.

 

Jason didn’t really know what to say to that, didn’t want to say anything to that. Of course, Dickhead had turned his info dig into some kind of bonding moment.

 

He turned back to his food as well. He didn’t know what point he was stuck on more; Tim being offered _Robin_ and _refusing_ , Tim refusing Robin because of _him_ , or him being his favorite Robin when he had _Dick_. This kid had to be _crazy_.

 

Neither of them said anything after that, both lost somewhere else. Sitting together as they finished their food in companionable silence for probably the first time in their life.

 

 

 

The first time Jason _officially_ meets Timothy Drake he doesn’t even realize it.

 

Jason was taking a smoke break leaning against some random fire escape. It’d been a slow night patrolling, a couple of muggings here and there but that was it. He scanned the street below idly, eyes falling on a coffee shop that still had its lights on, _Coffee Grinds 24/7_. He watched through the huge windows as the guy behind the counter continued to sway forward before jerking upright a couple of times, he was clearly spent.

 

Jason dropped the bud of his cigarette, putting it out. He had only entertained the idea of going over for a second before his Hood was on, already half way across the street. Pausing hand half raised when he reached the shop before pushing the door open. It chimed quietly.

 

The guy didn’t even look up from where he was half asleep on his phone. Jason surveyed him, long black hair tied back in a loose bun, pale skin that looked more to do with lack of sunlight than anything genetic. His entire body screamed _exhausted_ , eyes drooping, body slumped forward, expression sluggish, dark bags under his eyes that alone would look like bruises straight out of a punch up.

 

Jason must’ve been feeling extra charitable because just looking at him was pulling at his heart string like nothing else.

 

He walked the rest of the way forward, stopping at the bar stools, which seemed to finally provoke Tired Guy into noticing him. He looked up lazily, taking a second to actually _look_ at his latest customer before really seeing him.

 

He appeared more baffled than anything at having the Red Hood walk into his shop. Which, _huh_. Normally there would be a little more terror there. No matter, Jason absently filed that information away. Taking a final step forward towards the counter before dropping down right in front of him. Tired Guy just watched him for a second, looking at a loss.

 

“‘Lo, what would you like?” Tired Guy droned, gesturing absently at the menu behind him. Jason just watched him for a beat, wondering what the hell was going on with this guy for him to be so casual given the situation.

 

Jason’s eyes flickered to the name tag pinned to his shirt unnoticed behind his mask before saying, “ _Tim_. Kid, you look like you’re about to fall over. Why are you working at 3am, go the fuck to sleep.”

 

Tim if possible, just looked more baffled at this before smoothing his expression out into something more socially acceptable.

 

“Can’t. I’m working tonight’s shift, Katy has school. Besides, the sign says 24/7 not Almost 24/7.” He explained simply. Which, _nope_. Not good enough.

 

“Kid, no one’s coming in,”–Jason waved his hands around at the empty shop for emphasis— “just go home.”

 

Tim frowned a little at him, unconvinced.

 

“Tim why are you working the night shift? You look about ready to collapse. I will _literally_ give you the biggest tip of your _life_ if you just go _home_.” Jason gave a little nod at this suddenly set on his plan. He dug out his wallet, pulling out its entire content.

 

This seemed to startle a reaction out of Tired Guy at least, he sat up straighter, eyes wide.

 

“Woah, _what_?” And Tim, bless his tired little heart looked genuinely shocked, “you can’t just _pay_ _me_ to sleep. That’s not how tip jars work!” He watched hands half raised, hovering like he could stop _the Red Hood_ from tipping him $300. Jason almost snorted, _what was his life_?

 

Tim continued, a little shrill, “I don’t need your money, _ohmygod_! I don’t need you to tip me that much, I’ll go to sleep for free if you take it back.”

 

Jason hummed, not moving to take the money back. _What_? He had a lot of dirty money, might as well put it somewhere useful. “Kid, if you’re not working at 3am ‘cause you need the pay check then you’re crazy.”

 

“I’m not, though!” Tim denied, “I gave Kate the night off, I’m not even getting paid for this.”

 

Jason had to breathe in for a second, eyes closed. Reminding himself it was _wrong_ to punch civilians in the face. “Kid, you’re an _idiot_. Go home. Go to sleep.” Then when Tim just continued to stare, “Why do you even work here, if not for the money?” Jason asked, now honestly curious behind his helmet.

 

“Look,” Tim started getting flustered, “Look—okay, it’s complicated.” He licked his lips quickly. “I, kind of own this café?”

 

Jason raised an eyebrow, unseen by Tim. Though he seemed to read his reaction any way, rocking back slightly with a huff that sent his hair flying upwards only to fall straight back into his face.

 

“It was an accident. Sort of? _It’s complicated_ , okay?”

 

Jason didn’t really buy it, though. Curiosity quickly investing him in this story. “How complicated could it be, kid? You either bought a café or you didn’t.”

 

Tim scolded at him, looking down and mumbling something to the counter top before looking up again. “It was an _accident_.” He insisted sounding like he’d had to explain this story one too many times already, “I really didn’t mean to buy the café, I just wanted the apartment upstairs, so... I bought it. And, well. The café was included? So,” He shrugged, “now I sort of own a coffee shop.”

 

Jason scoffed, a few things clicking in place and said, “That is such a rich person’s tale. You’re totally a rich boy aren’t you. Oh no, I bought an apartment and a business at 19, what ever shall I do?”

 

“And,” Tim spoke loudly as if Jason hadn’t said a word, “and, so now, I work here sometimes. Because, well, Katy’s like 16 and tired and it’s _finals_. Finals. Which is just the worsted, I totally did not miss them when I dropped out.”

 

“Rich boy.” Jason sung, smirking.

 

Tim huffed again, but otherwise didn’t move to acknowledge him. Busying himself in wiping the already clean benches down while Jason watched. Not finding it unnerving at all to have the full attention of _the_ Red Hood.

 

Although this was Gotham. The Red Hood, Jason thought reasonably, was probably not the shadiest person he’s served coffee to.

 

Oh well, doesn’t matter if this guy’s got inadequate self-preservation skills _or_ he’s some rich kid torturing himself with night shifts, he’s still got to sleep, if anything the latter fact will probably make convincing him to close early easier. He peered over at Tired Guy who was steadily ignoring him and amended to himself, _possibly_.

 

“Look, unless there’s some serum that cost a stupid amount of money out there that abruptly disqualifies you of the need to sleep. Then last I checked, even rich boys have to sleep, Rich Boy. Go to bed.” Jason tried exasperated and Tim looked up from scrubbing at some nonexistent stain for a second to examine him. It was kind of unnerving and Jason resisted the impulse to shift around like some second grader caught in the principal’s office.

 

Tim scrunched his nose up at him. “Why do you want me to sleep so bad, anyway?” Tired Guy asked, “Don’t tell me you do this with everyone working this late.”

 

_Uh no_ , _because everyone else would have already taken my money and left._

 

“So, what if I do?” Jason countered, “Doesn’t change the fact that ignoring something your body needs to function is not a good idea, kid.”

 

The dude just hummed like he didn’t really believe that but okay. And, yeah. Time for a change in tactics.

 

“Tim,” Jason said smirk in his voice as he reached down unhooking his guns—safety still on—and placed them on the counter. “I will hold this shop hostage until you go to bed.”

 

Tired Guy eyed him warily. “There’s no one here, I could just wait until 6 when _my_ shift ends and go to bed then.”

 

Jason snorted, amused. Before correcting, “I will hold this shop hostage for five hours every hour that you do not sleep, kid. You’ll end up passed out on the floor trying to out stubborn me, while I hole up in your lovely establishment. Which does not sound very good for business.” He finished, raising an unseen eyebrow at Tim.

 

Tired Guy regarded him suspiciously trying to gauge his sincerity or maybe to try and spot his bluff. Jason relaxed further into his stool, not bothered in the least. He was a hundred percent serious.

 

Hell, part of him even wanted Tim to refuse to go to bed. If only because the thought of Tired Guy trying to out last him was kind of hilarious. Kid looked like he was about to collapse from exhaustion any second now.

 

Jason watched as Tim seemed to accept that he was, in fact, not bluffing. Standing there like he was going to refuse to sleep just out of spite. A smile twisted up his lips, Tired Guy looked ridiculous.

 

“This is a _coffee shop_ , I could probably stay awake for hours if need be.”

 

Jason snorted, _what a little shit_. “Then I’ll hold the coffee machine hostage as well.” Tired Guy didn’t look very perturbed at that which caused Jason to smile a little wider. “Tim, go to sleep.” Tim just grumbled under his breath, reminding Jason of an unhappy little kitten. He said again louder, “ _Tim_ go to sleep.”

 

Tim crossed his arms before sighing dramatically, throwing his hands up. “Fine!” He got up, dropping the cloth on the counter in a huff. “Happy now?”

 

Jason smirked. “Overjoyed.” He continued to watch bemused as Tim stalked over to the door behind the counter, opening it to reveal a stair case.

 

“Lock the door on your way out Hood!” Tim called over his shoulder, not seeming very concerned at leaving a known criminal in charge of his café. He was an _idiot_ —absolutely crazy, Jason thought shaking his head in silent laughter.

 

Still, Jason sat around for awhile longer, listening to Tim shuffle around upstairs. Waited five minutes after the last patter of feet was heard before getting up quietly. He was careful opening the door, bell sounding softly as he did so. He flipped the latch from the inside before letting it close with a click. Double checking that it was actually locked before wondering towards _his_ safe house ready to fall into bed himself.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jay and Dick have some quality bro time and Jason visits the cafe again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys! I'm super excited to post this! All of your comments made me smile super wide, so thank you! And here is your reward, chapter number two as promised! :D
> 
> I hope you like it as much as the first one, be sure to tell me what you think! Enjoy!

It’s a couple of days before the suspicion fully hits him, then Jason’s halfway towards Dick’s apartment before he can think too hard about it. He breaks in easily, because why the hell not? Pauses once inside, listening for any sign Dickiebird was home. Hears nothing of note.

 

So, of course the next thing he does is snoop around, absently poking his nose in things. Anyone that knows him at all would be kidding themselves thinking he’d wait around doing nothing until _Dickhead_ gets back. No thank you. If anything it’s Dick’s own fault for making his apartment so easy to break into.

 

Speaking of, Dick's apartment wasn’t the worst. Not the best, but still, definitely not the worst. If it wasn’t for the mold hanging on the ceiling and a few holes in the wall that obviously once held rats, or at least Jason’s hoping they once held rats—as in, _past tense_ —he would’ve called it nice. And he guesses, by Gotham’s standard it is.

 

Dick had an open plan kitchen and living room, the former Jason bypassed completely, trying to ignore the obvious mess of dishes and take away containers and the _cereal_. God, you’d think he’d grow out of that at some point, but whatever. _Ignoring_.

 

The living room was cleaner, a few bits and pieces lying around, he walked straight over to the book shelf. Which had more framed pictures lining the shelves than _books._ Some of various hero’s in and out of costume he recognized from the Teen Titans. There were pictures of Bruce at various ages, pictures of Tiny Dick smiling hugely at the camera next to a number of different people.

 

Dick Grayson was nothing if not social.

 

Jason peered at the pictures carefully, trying to find any sign of Timothy Drake, but couldn’t see any. He abandoned the living room all together after a few minutes, wondering to the nearest door. He opened it carefully before peering in. Laundry room.

 

There were two more doors left unopened. So, he continued walking, chose the one closest to him before opening it a crack, a study. He shrugged, pushing the door open all the way and striding in. Immediately noticeable was a desk along the far wall, messy with paperwork and files. Jason lifted up a few—shifting them around carefully, disregarding them when nothing looked remotely interesting.

 

He turned away.

 

Just like in the living room there was a bookcase although this one actually had books in it. Manuals and police stuff, all non-fiction. Jason moved onto the shelves lining the wall. Again, there were pictures along each one. Some more of Bruce and Tiny Dick. Some with Babs, some of people he didn’t recognize. He moved to the next shelf.

 

Only to pause in surprise, eyes widening slightly, there were pictures of _him_ lining the wall. He swallowed the lump working it's way up his throat as he studied them, because _of course_ there were pictures of him, he was stupid not to think there would be—this was _Dick_ they were talking about. Sentimental shit was practically his middle name. Besides, he doubts he’s the only dead boy frozen in a picture frame haunting Dick’s apartment like something phony. Smiles too sweet for the dead, it made Jason’s skin crawl.

 

And he was standing in front of them like a mockery sneering at them. _Here I am! Why am I alive? What makes me so much better than you?_

 

Except he’s not, he’s really _really_ not and it makes it _so much_ worse. Why should Jason get to be here when they aren’t?

 

But he can’t think about it, can’t let it swallow him up like it has before. It doesn’t matter _why_ , all that matters is that it is him, alive in Dickie's study. _No one else_ , and that has to be enough.

 

 _It has to be_.

 

Jason looks back to the pictures. Mostly it was just him with other people Dick had probably gotten copies of after he kicked it, but to his growing astonishment there were a couple with him and Dick. Taken probably on the rare occasion that he was in Gotham and even rarer still, that they weren’t fighting. He studied the first one trying to figure out when it was taken but couldn’t remember. He pushed away the worry that caused and studied it more closely.

 

They were in the Den at the Manor, sat on the lounge with controllers in both their hands and determined looks on their faces as they played whatever game was in the console. The picture had been taken from the doorway and he wondered briefly who had taken it. _Probably Alfred._

 

The thought of Alfred sent a pang through his chest. His lips curving into an involuntary smile, he’d freely admit to anyone who’d listen that he missed Alfred.

 

He was just about to move, maybe try to find some pictures of Alfred now he thought about it, when there was a soft creak from the door.

 

“Little Wing?” Dick asked hesitantly staying just inside the frame. Jason looked up at him feeling a little bit like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar and trying impossibly hard not to act like it.

 

Still, he straightens up fully, only an actual hair shy from bracing his shoulders. He resisted the urge. “Hey Dickie.”

 

Dick regarded him cautiously for a moment. Probably trying to work out how suspicious this entire thing actually made Jason, caught in his study when he really shouldn’t be there. Not that Jason blamed him. God, Jason’s probably just as likely to be planting a bomb as he is to actually _want_ to see Dick. If not _more_. _Maybe he should have brought a bomb_ —it would have made this a lot less awkward.

 

He started to explain without being asked, “Stopped by for a chat, you weren’t here.” Jason shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly as if this was something he did all the time. “Got bored waiting,” Jason gestured around the room offering his best disarming grin, _so I snooped around your place_.

 

Dick nodded carefully, over pronouncing his words when he spoke, “Right.” A beat. “Well, come on then.” He tilted his head towards the living room before turning around, obviously choosing to take Jason's appearance in stride. Jason followed behind him without preamble. 

 

Once in the living room Jason sprawled himself across the surprisingly comfortable couch as Dick walked past him into the kitchen. “Want something to drink, Jay?”

 

Jason watched as Dick opened various cupboards only to pull out two glasses and called back, “Dickie, that’s about the only thing I trust you in the kitchen with.” Jason smirked lazily at Dick’s back when that got him a smile over Dick’s shoulder, watching as Dick laughed.

 

When Dick returned, two glasses of water held triumphantly in each hand. Passing one off to Jason as he walked by, then seating himself on the armchair adjacent. They studied each other in silence for a minute. Jason taking notice of Dick's civvies, a pair of jeans and a light blue form fitting t-shirt, no shoes, but a pair of worn socks on his feet. Jason was thankful not for the first time that he’d decided to come in civvies himself. He doesn’t think Dick would have reacted nearly as well to Red Hood snooping around his place in the middle of the day.

 

Finally, Dick opened his mouth, “So, Jay. You said you wanted to talk?”

 

Jason nodded a little. He’d tried to think of the best way to ask about Tim without setting any alarm bells off on Big Bird the entire way over here. He’d ultimately figured telling the truth would be the best way to ask.

 

So, sitting forward properly he got straight to the point, “Yeah—I’m pretty sure I met Timothy Drake the other day and wanted you to confirm.” He watched as both Dick’s eyebrows shot up, clearly not expecting that.

 

“And you couldn’t just ask him yourself, Little Wing?” He asked, looking entirely too interested.

 

Jason scoffed in return, “Uh no. How would that conversation go exactly, _Dick?_  Hey, stranger, nice to meet you, also do you happen to help the tight spandex club from homebase, thanks.”

 

Jason rolled his eyes. _Honestly_.

 

Dick looked amused now, smile stretching on his lip as he said slowly, “Jason, why didn’t you just ask him if he knew me?”

 

 _Huh_. He honestly had not thought of that.

 

“Dickhead, like I’d ever wanted to be associated with _you_. _Especially_ in polite conversation.”

 

The asshole just smirked at him, clearly not buying it. “Okay, okay. How am I meant to confirm this exactly?” Dick said eyes flashing in amusement.

 

Jason huffed only hesitating for a moment before speaking, “Is your Tim the same one that walks around half asleep accidently buying cafes?”

 

Dick had a grin spreading on his face before Jason had even finished, by the end of Jason’s description he’d closed his eyes and let out a shout of laughter, looking delighted.

 

Jason took that as a yes and waited nearly-patiently for Dick to calm down. Which he did, saying between blithe chuckles, “Yup. That’s baby bird.” _Baby bird?_ Jason filed _that_ nickname away for future use, noticing seconds too late when Dick shifted into Super Nosy Big Brother Mode, looking at Jason with a face far too innocent to be trusted. “How’d you meet Tim to get that outta him, Jaybird?”

 

_Great, exactly what he needed, this asshole becoming way too invested in his personal life._

 

Jason shifted from side to side, creating and discarding several lies before shrugging. He’d started this out honest might as well go all in. “I was taking a break from patrolling and saw his coffee shop had it’s lights on.” –He shrugged again— “The guy looked like he was about to fall asleep on the counter. I was curious, which didn’t stop when his reaction to Red Hood walking in at 3 am was bewilderment not terror.”

 

Dick leaned forward in his seat, “Makes sense seeing as he knows who you are under the mask Jay.”

 

Jason nodded minutely. “Yea, _anyway_. He asked me what I wanted to drink, which I ignored in favor of telling him to, very politely,”—Dick snorted, Jason glared— “go home and go to bed. He then proceeded to act like the little shit, in retrospect, he very clearly _is_ and _not go home_. So, I tried to pay him to.”

 

A beat of silence, before Dick spluttered out a laugh asking incredulously, “ _You tried to pay him to sleep_?”

 

“Yup. Gave him 3 hundred in the tip jar,” Jason added helpfully, which just caused Dick to choke out another round of high laughter. Once Dick had quietened Jason continued, humming thoughtfully, “He was actually more freaked out over _that_ than me being a known criminal. Tried to get me to take it back by saying he wasn’t actually working the nightshift for the money, wasn’t getting payed _at all_.”

 

Jason leveled Dick with an unimpressed look, “Which reminds me. Dick,” he started solemnly, “Your kid genius is a complete and utter _moron_.”—Dick snorted again, not arguing— “I asked him why he’d work there if not for the money.”—this time Jason scoffed—“Richie Rich proceeded to get super flustered and tell me how he’d _accidently_ bought the café.”

 

Jason paused rolling his eyes while Dick smiled at him from across the room. “I tried to get him to sleep, but _Tim_ seems to think that sleep is a completely optional concept reserved only for mere mortals i.e. not him.”

 

Dick nodded at this, seeming to agree wholeheartedly with that assessment before asking, “Wait, so. Did you end up getting him to sleep?”

 

“Yes,” Jason admitted, shifting around cautiously before continuing, “I may have threatened to hold his café up at gun point for five hours every hour that he didn’t go to bed.”

 

“ _Jason_.” Dick tried to sound disapproving, but you could tell his heart wasn’t in it.

 

“ _What_? Besides he looked about ready to bunker down for the wait just to prove he could.” He scoffed loudly, “As if he could out last me, I told him that I’d hold the coffee machine hostage as well, which is when he finally relented. Just left me with his café like nothing remotely bad could come of _that_.”

 

Dick smiled at him again, softly this time making Jason feel vaguely uncomfortable. “He trusts you, Little Wing. You were his hero, remember?”

 

Something in Jason twisted, sneering at Dick from across the room. “Past tense, birdie. Doubt he’s been looking up to a known killer.”

 

Dick eyed him knowingly before relenting, “Maybe not. But the guy that tries to bribe random civilians into taking the night off?” He surveyed him for a second, letting the question hang in the air. “You’re not a bad person Jay.”

 

Jason didn’t let himself linger on that, ignoring the tiny part of him that’s still fifteen and hanging for Dick’s approval, instead biting out sarcastically, “Oh well, if you _say_ , Dickie.”

 

But Dick just sighed, not rising to the bait. He stood up collecting both his and Jason’s now empty glasses and walking towards the kitchen.

 

“Wanna stay for dinner, Jason?” Dick asked looking back at him briefly before gathering up the dirty dishes littering the kitchen counter and dumping them in the sink. “We can order take out.”

 

Jason’s bristling anger paused at the words. Hesitating. He should say no. He’s gotten what he wanted, he should leave but... before he can fully open his mouth his mind’s flashing back to the pictures lining Dick’s study. Suddenly he’s remembering all the times Dick dropped by unannounced while Bruce was noticeably absent, busy with the League or WE. He remembers hanging out with Dick, all the awkward pauses and bitter silence, all the misunderstandings.

 

He remembers Dick coming back after every single one of their fights stubbornly optimistic with a stupid half smile on his lips. Remembers for all the bad times there were still _good_ ones, something that had been bitterly absent most of his life.

 

He looks at Dick now, busy washing his mountain of dishes. Wonders if he’s just distracting himself from the rejection he knows Jason’s about to give. He looks at this man, standing just across the room, and feels the distance between them in oceans.

 

Jason looks at Dick and all at once it hits him just how much he desperately misses his older brother. Chest aching with the loss, he feels his throat closing. Stupidly he feels like crying. Takes a second to push the urge away, opens his mouth voice pitching a little too softly. “Sure Dickie.” Swallows uncomfortably, “but _I’m_ picking the place.”

 

He only has a second to feel the uncertainty creep in—then Dick’s looking up at him startled, a huge genuine smile lighting up his entire face and Jason’s chest eases. Relaxes subtly into the couch. Feels like _maybe_ for the first time in a long time, it might actually be okay.

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next time Red Hood walked into _Coffee Grinds 24/7_ he didn’t so much as pause to look around—it was empty—instead strode straight towards the counter, addressing a tired but marginally more put together Tim before he’d even sat down.

 

“So, Rich Boy. What do you even do? Wait, _sorry_. What do you do, when you’re not accidently buying coffee shops?”

 

Tim glances up from his phone, eyeing him, “So what, you’re stalking me now? You could at least buy a coffee this time.”

 

“Well, you would know wouldn’t you, Mr. Stalker. And sure, make me whatever.” Jason smirked, then let it grow wider when Tim didn’t even pause to look annoyed. Moving towards the coffee machine without faltering. He’d fully admit that this was fun, well not to Tim’s face but still. He was the same amount curious as he was amused by Tim.

 

“I thought you weren’t talking to ‘Wing. Or did you drop by just to ask about me, truly I’m touched Hood.” Tim said squarely, not looking up from the coffee he was making.

 

“Well, I thought it was only fair seeing as you seem to know such an awful lot about me, Timmy.”

 

Tim hummed, finishing the coffee and settling it on the bench with an audible click. “You owe me 7.50,” Tim said evenly, holding his hand out expectantly. Jason shuffled around a bit before handing him the correct change, watching weirdly charmed when Tim proceeded to leave the money right on the counter, sit down on the stool hidden under the bench and steal Jason’s coffee for himself before Jay could even try it.

 

_Who even was this kid?_

 

Eventually, after several long sips, Tim looked back up, “I work in the R&D at Wayne Tech, though I’m sure you already know that.” He quickly dismissed that line of conversation, leaning forward as if he could see Jason’s expression through his helmet. “What you’re really asking about is my night time work.”

 

“Careful Timbo, sounds like you’re pole dancing all night in some seedy club. I’m sure the Tabloids would eat that right up; _Timothy Drake Prodigy by Day, Entertaining Gotham’s Questionable Night Life by_ _Dark_.”

 

“Hm. Maybe I’ll send them in some pictures for their trouble,” Tim eyed him sultrily, half teasing smirk on his face, “And yours.”

 

Jason scoffed caught off guard but recovering quickly, chest twinging with something he didn’t stop to think about. “Well, you know out of the two of us I think I’d appreciate them a lot more, pretty birdie.”

 

Tim smiled sweetly, drinking from Jason’s coffee again. There was a beat of silence as they sat then Tim asked, “What are you really doing here, Hood. Do you need help with your drug trafficking case?”

 

Jason rolled his eyes, of course he’d know about that. What did Dick say, _he’s basically a second Oracle, better detective, could definitely destroy all of us if he wanted; Ra's is kind of obsessed._

 

“What, Timmy? I can’t just drop in to say hi? I’ve grown deeply attached to the time we spent together.” Jason placed his hand over his heart in mock theatrics.

 

Tim just gave him a deadpan look, replying, “The first and last time we met you walked in, bossed me around then left.” Then in the most insincere sweet voice Jason has ever heard, “I deeply cherished our time together too, Hood.”

 

It was kind of really ironic, Jason thought, because for all the mocking they put into their words, they were both admitting things that were completely true. He thinks Tim can tell too, if the smile hiding on his lips was anything to go by. Not for the first time since Jason had met Tim, he considered how endearing the Bats pet genius looked. Especially now, with his stolen coffee and head full of plots, dark circles painted on his face like mascara contrasting strongly against his baby blues. _Cute,_ he thought _._

 

Then, _oh shit_. Because this was the _Bats_ kid genius, he did _not_ want to get attached. That was basically asking for all types of trouble. Dick alone would never let him live it down. Bruce would probably kill him.

 

 _Batman doesn’t kill,_ a twisted part of him sings. He ignores it.

 

Tim doesn’t seem to notice Jason’s inner turmoil or if he does, he doesn’t react. Watching Red Hood with a contemplative look on his face before it evens out into something neutral.

 

“Does that mean you _don’t_ want help with your drug problem?” Tim asks eyes light and playful. “Because I could help you out pretty easily.”

 

Jason rolls his eyes. “Yeah _no thanks_ , stalker boy.” Then he remembers Dick dropping in on him fighting those thugs the other day and rounds on Tim, annoyance tightening his eyes. “Speaking of, I don’t need you calling me in to Dickhead, asshole. I don’t need the merry little bat band’s help.”

 

Tim shrugs, unbothered. “So you said.”

 

“You heard me?” Which reminds Jason of another thing he’s wanted to ask about. He waits for Tim’s answering nod before asking, “Why didn’t you talk to me on the comms?”

 

Tim pauses for half a second. Replying cagily, “Did you want me to?”

 

Which, _fair_. But also, “That’s not a proper answer.”

 

Tim looked down with a half shrug before peering up at him. “I _wanted_ to,” he sighed, “I just, didn’t think it would be welcome.” He seemed to deflate at his word. Then under his breath, “Didn’t want to fight.”

 

Jason didn’t think he was meant to hear the last bit, but he did and couldn’t help but grab onto it. “You thought I’d fight with you?”

 

Tim shrugged again looking sullen. “You fight with everyone else.”

 

“Everyone else are assholes.” He says automatically, then feeling a little bad at the still dim look on Tim’s face amends awkwardly, “But I don’t, uh know you. So, just, don’t give me a reason to fight and we won’t.”

 

He cringed inwardly at the implied future conversations over his comm but couldn’t bring himself to regret his words when Tim gave him a small but radiant smile.

 

Then swallowed, feeling a little trapped on the receiving end of it. This might be a bad idea.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is! What do you think? How'd I go with Jay and Dick bro time? I tried to write Jason on the road to recovery, but not quite there, so if you haven't noticed that yet, you'll probably notice it soon.
> 
> Tim and Jay's coffee shop time is always fun to write. Ah, the relationship to come, what have you gotten yourself into Jason?
> 
> Also! In this universe I feel like Tim would still have a lot of combat training credit to the Bats. Got to be prepared, right? And I definitely think he'd still draw the attention of Ra's somehow because he's just that lucky. I'd love to know if you'd be interested in a more focused look around this (Ra's + Tim's skill/training) in the future, I think it would be fun to explore, so let me know and you just might just get a side fic! ;)
> 
> Next Chapter: A Look in Jason's Head Plus Some Much Needed JayTim Time!
> 
> Again, I'd be absolutely thrilled if you commented! Seriously guys give me some prompts and I'll add them in!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason thinks some things over, plans some plans; naturally none of them work. Tim is there being awesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys! Wow, this chapter was torture to write and I still don't know how I feel about it :/ Most of my writing time was just me listening to Bird Sounds by Didirri which I thought was a pretty good song for Jason in this chapter lol. But I've finished it as much as I can and here it is for your lovely viewing! 
> 
> Jason is a little bit of a mess in this one, a tiny bit defeatist which isn't fun, but yay character development. Tim is an angel too good for this world that activates 100% protective instincts in everyone, so that's cute. Anywayyy, I hope you guys like it! :D

 

It’s been three days since Jason had last seen Tim, a little over a week since he’d officially _met_ him, and no matter how hard he tries he can’t get him out of his head.

 

And _gosh_ has he tried... He’s been trying to keep himself busy; cleaning and cooking, fixing up his shitty apartment here and there. Jason’s always thought best doing something inane but seeing as that’s exactly what he was trying to _avoid_ he focused on keeping his head busy.

 

Naturally, it wasn’t working.

 

He’d tried reading briefly but soon found himself too restless for even that, mind wandering away on him. And he _knew_ he couldn’t avoid thinking about it, not really. Mostly he’d just been trying to put it off, shove it down so deep he didn’t have to acknowledge it until someone forced him to, and maybe not even then. It worked well with too many things, if he was honest.

 

Which is probably why it wasn’t working this time. To many forbidden topics waiting around in the back of his head, there’s no room to hide this one away. Can’t shove it down deep enough so looks like he’s dealing with it now.

 

So that’s how he ends up here; on his fire escape, _thinking_.

 

His mind wanders first to everything he knows, cataloging it in front of him so he can pick it apart—and _ho boy_ , is he gonna pick it apart, because seriously? He feels like Timothy Drake has only been on his radar for a couple weeks, and still somehow managed to throw everything out of whack.

 

His relationship with Dick is suddenly better than it has been in literal years and Jason is not above blaming it on Tim. Whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing remains to be seen but _still_. Jason would feel suspicious of the Bats involvement if he weren’t so sure Bruce could never think up something that deals so heavily with _emotions_.

 

And not only that, Jason’s entire childhood is being turned upside down, _Robin_ is being turned upside down. Hell, before this week Jason would have laughed in the face of anyone who suggested you could _turn down_ the Robin mantle. He still might, because that just isn’t _done!_ You don’t _turn down_ Robin like some hand-me-down clothes.

 

You don’t turn down a chance to fly at Batman’s side.

 

Robin was always an opportunity as much as it was a condition. A chance to do something meaningful, helping people. He would be Bruce’s Good Soldier a million times as long as he got to be Robin, and that more than anything left a bitter taste in his mouth. For all he regrets Jason doesn’t think he'd ever regret dawning the cape and cowl, no matter how bittersweet.

 

Yet here was Tim, turning away from a chance of it. The kid’s either completely insane or a helluva lot smarter than Jason ever was.

 

And here comes point number two, the big _what if_  that's been bouncing around his head like a runaway pinball ever since he'd let Dick run his mouth on the fire escape.

 

_What if Tim hadn’t turned down Robin?_

 

His first instinct is to deny he’d have a problem with it, sure he was Robin. Big deal, Dick was Robin too and Jason still ended up in pixie boots. Realistically he knows he was never going to be Robin forever, didn’t _want_ to be. So what if Tim wanted to become the next tragic story shadowing Batman’s cape?

 

The problem with that, Jason knows, is that no matter how much he wants to _deny, deny, deny_ , he’d have a problem, he can’t. Hell, bullshit on a tricycle had a better chance of convincing him than Jason did because he knew it wasn’t true.

 

Crawling out of the Pit to find out he’d been _replaced_ and _unavenged?_ He'd thought Talia had an easy time winding him up and aiming him at Bruce _before_ , he can only imagine how eager he would have been to off the Bat with some stranger running around in his old suit, _his old life_ , like Jason had barely been there long enough to warm it.

 

He feels sick just thinking about it, heart gnawing on itself with anxiety. He doesn’t even want to think what he’d have done to _Tim_. Because _of course_ he’s not disillusioned enough to think he wouldn’t have dragged him into his and Bruce’s mess. Like he was some puppy dog he could hold for ransom instead of a _human being_ — _God_ , Tim would’ve been just a _kid_. He shouldn’t be around bad guys and _guns_ ; fuck he would be getting _shot at_. By _him_ , no less. Shot at as in shot _dead_.

 

The more Jason thought about it the more he wanted to wrap not-Tim up in a bubble and hide him away from the world. _What was Bruce thinking?_ How he ever thought sending them out to fight _crime_ a good idea, he had no clue. Holy fuck, compared to Tim, Dick would’ve been a _baby_ when he dawned the costume! Forget his revenge plot, he should’ve just gotten Bruce Wayne arrested for _child endangerment!_

 

Jason sucked in a deep breath, mind lingering on nothing for a second as he thumbed out a cigarette with practiced ease, lighting it up. Let the smell and heat sooth away at some of the tension he’d accumulated. Stared down at the alley his apartment overlooked, finding odd comfort in the grime and trash that litter the floor, mold coloring the walls like a coat of paint.

 

If there’s one thing Jason could count on to stay the same, it was this shit hole of a city.

 

With another sigh Jason’s mind wondered back to Tim. Tim Tired Guy from the coffee shop, not Timothy Drake Bat’s pet genius, because honestly, Jason was having a hard time remembering they were the same person.

 

He feels a little too fond remembering his last encounter, especially about someone he’d literally just met. He wished he could shove _that_ down.

 

He can’t have a _crush_ on _Tim_ , it’s really a terrible idea. He means, not even accounting all the problems _Jason_ has with relationships; this is _Tim_. There’s no way it would ever work out, he may as well save himself the trouble and just not bother.

 

Besides, he can maintain their professional relationship over the comms, Tim is a good ally to have in the field. He doesn’t even have to see him in person, it’s fine.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

_It is not fine._

 

Jason’s plan lasted about three hours, which was the exact amount of time it took to suit up and go on patrol. Really, he should’ve seen this coming, he did give his sort-of permission for Tim to talk to him on the comms.

 

He just didn’t think he’d talk _this much_.

 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be, birdie?” Jason asked as he scaled the building, opposite the one he was set to stake out.

 

“Nope.” Tim said, popping the P for emphasis. “I don’t have anything going on tonight. B just wanted me to take a look at his latest case. Pair of fresh eyes, y’know? But I can leave if you want to stake this place out on your own all night...” Tim left the question hanging between them.

 

Jason knew this was probably his best opportunity to tell Tim to leave him alone, and he would _really_ but watching a bunch of over grown thugs all night wasn’t his idea of a good time. Besides, wasn’t this the plan? Tim is a good ally and it’s not like Jason would be _seeing_ him in person any time soon...

 

Yes, Jason does realize he’s kidding himself. No, he is not going to acknowledge it.

 

He sighs gustily before answering, “No, Richie Rich. You can stay, just don’t mess up my stake out and we won’t have a problem.” Jason grunts softly, pulling himself up to the vantage point he'd chosen to spy on the warehouse. Grabbed out one of his scopes, lining it up to watch before asking, “Bats really let you touch his cases? I thought I’d die before he let _that_ happen. _Oh wait_. Guess I _did_.”

 

A beat of silence then, “That was _so bad_ , Hood.” Tim groaned before continuing in a more teasing voice, “What would Alfred say?”

 

“Probably something super passive aggressive _, why, young sir, if you could stop that language for a moment perhaps you could evaluate one of these cookies?_ ” Jason said in his best British accent, which was pretty damn good, he even raised an Unimpressed Eyebrow under his mask in his best Alfred impression. He didn’t grow up with Mr. Stoic and English _not_ to learn how to fake a British accent. He heard Tim snort over the comms, so counted it as a win. “Anyway, you can’t just play the Alfred card on me every time I do something you don’t like, birdie.”

 

“Why, because it works?” Jason could hear the sly grin in his voice and grinned in response.

 

“Sweetheart, if you think anyone but the A-man himself is going to make me feel guilty then you’ve got another thing coming.” Then as an afterthought, “It’ll definitely work on Dickhead though. One word about Alfred being disappointed and he’ll clam up like a guilty child.”

 

Tim laughed, a little artificial over the comms but still clearly a laugh. Jason continued to smile a little smile at the sound, watching through the scope of his gun as the hired muscle shifted around in another rotation, making note of the time in his head for when he busted them. He was hoping to get the asshole behind the drug shipments _before_ he busted them, though—hence the stake out.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Jay,” Tim said over the sound of clicking fingers, Jason guessed he was doing something or another on his computer and didn’t bother asking.

 

Instead he teased, “What? So, I’m Jay now? Who gave you permission to use that, Tim-Tam?”

 

“Hey!” Tim replied indignant, “You're allowed to have a monopoly of nicknames and I can’t have _one?_ ”

 

“Who said anything about nicknames? _I_ was going to say no names over the comm, pretty bird.”

 

Tim grumbled audibly, “Says the guy who just called me _Tim-Tam_.”

 

Jason let out a surprised sound then says mock solemn, “So you’re telling me you’re _not_ a chocolate covered biscuit found in Australia? To think our entire relationship! Built on lies!”

 

Tim huffs in amusement then, “Sorry, Hood.” Voice dripping with sarcasm, “I’ve just _always_ wanted to be seen as a snack food. This might have been my only _chance_! I couldn’t just pass that up and let you call me _birdie_.”

 

“I forgive you, biscuit boy.” Jason said faux sympathetic, “If I had an aspiration that inspiring, I wouldn’t be able to give it up either.”

 

“You’re telling me you _don’t_ want to be a Bluejay? Dick’s gonna be heartbroken.”

 

Jason snorts, sullen from all the years he’s had to put up with Dick’s god-awful nicknames, “Good thing if it stops him calling me that.”

 

Tim just laughs at him; Jason kind of wished the sound didn’t make him feel so damn affectionate.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Jason has made a terrible mistake. He would say he’s just now realizing it but that would be bullshit. He’d known it was a terrible mistake as he was making said terrible mistake. The difference between the two is _now_ he has to deal with the consequences. _Which, 10/10 would not recommend_.

 

What are these consequences you ask? He can’t get Timothy Drake out of his head, which _sure_ was already happening. The problem? Now it’s a million times _worse_ , Jason resists the urge to track down a time machine just so he can shoot past-him in the face. _This was not the plan._ _He had a plan; it was a good plan. This. Was not. The plan._

 

That’s fine, he’s making a new plan. _Mentally list all the reasons he shouldn’t get involved with Tim Drake._

 

And there are _a lot_. Most obviously Tim’s a _Bat_ —which honestly should be enough on its own but lately hasn’t been holding the same weight. Whatever, it doesn’t change the fact that Tim’s on the side of the angels and Jason is definitely _not_. He’s literally a killer, Tim is trained to _bring killers in_. As far as Jason’s concerned that’s not the best thing to start a relationship on.

 

Even if it were, they’d have no reason to trust each other—Jason wouldn’t trust Tim’s reaction to half the shit he’s done, it would send any sane person running; either away or to therapy. _Probably both_. And on top of that Jason’s only about seventy percent sure this isn’t some elaborate plan Bruce’s cooked up. That other thirty percent? That’s a lot of room for shit Jason doesn’t want to deal with. Ever.

 

Hell, he’s not even sure he _wants_ to deal with his non-existent relationship with Tim. Shooting people in the head in various places around the world doesn’t leave a lot of time for romancing. The closest he’d gotten was some asshole in Venice who just happened to be listening to compositions as he got a bullet in his head. And y’know, because it was _Venice_.

 

So, yeah. Jason’s a little hesitant, the only time he’d even “dated” someone had been high school for like two seconds. He doesn’t think that counts because 1) it was there then over and 2) it was _high school_. Fourteen-year olds aren’t known for their long-lasting relationships. _Fuck_ , the only good relationship role models Jason’s had, were _Dick_ and _Babs_ and they hadn’t been doing much more than making puppy eyes at each other!

 

He has no reason to think he’d be any good as a boyfriend—life partner, _whatever_. It’s basically written in his blood that no relationship he ever has will work. Just like ending up on the wrong side of Batman had been and look where he’s standing now; a criminal. Might as well stop while he’s ahead and not even try.

 

Besides, Jason has a solid plan. And the only thing he needs for this plan to work is to _stay away from Tim_. Simple.

                                           

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Jason ends up at Tim’s café the next night on patrol.

 

For albeit totally work-related reasons, and it does take him five minutes of hesitating before he walks in. At this point Jason’s not even sure if he’d been trying to convince himself to stay away or not.

 

Mentally shrugging, he’s pretty much accepted avoiding Tim for the rest of his life isn't going to work. It was a good plan on paper, but right now he needs help finding the guy handling the major drug shipments into Gotham. His stake out granting him nothing useful—and for that he needs to hack some shit. Jason’s pretty sure he could do it by himself, but he’s also sure that it wouldn’t be as easy or as clean as Tim’s hack job.

 

So, yes, he’s going to see Tim because wasted time means another batch of drugs on the street. Which means more dealers selling to _kids_ , which he deals enough case by case already, taking the drugs out before they get to Gotham is the most efficient way of dealing with this he can think of. So, he needs a hacker, and Jason hasn’t even spoken to Oracle since he came back as Red Hood, he doubts she’d be very willing to help him out.

 

That’s where Tim comes in.

 

“Yo, biscuit boy!” He calls walking into _Coffee Grinds 24/7,_ stopping halfway to the counter to stand and watch Tim make himself a coffee. Someone should really talk to him about taking better care of himself, this is three times he’s been on a night shift for someone else as far as Jason knows and he’d bet his favorite knife it’s not the only time it’s happening. Maybe Jason should get Dick to set Alfred on him.

 

Tim looks up as Red Hood strolls in, coffee machine gurgling behind him. He offers Jason a lazy quirk of his lips, “Hey Jay.” Turns back to fiddle with some buttons before turning it off and wiping it down, walking towards the counter with hot coffee held triumphantly in hand. He sits down before addressing Jason again, “Whatcha doin’?”

 

“Oh, you know. Kicking ass, looking awesome. The usual shindig, Mr. Sleep Deprivation.” Jason nods at the coffee, “How many of them you had, birdie?” And oh, looks like _Jay’s_ going to be talking to Tim about his wellbeing, _great_.

 

He watches as Tim curls his hands more securely around his coffee cup, looking about ready to claw the eyes out of anyone who even tries to touch his precious caffeine. Mostly it just reaffirms that Tim looks like an angry little kitty cat. “Not that many.” Tim says half defensive, half resigned.

 

“Oh yeah? When’s the last time you got your beauty sleep, princess?” And yup, Tim definitely looks like he’s resigning himself to this conversation. Good, if the Bats aren’t spewing some hypocritical health lecture every couple days then somethings up.

 

“I sleep.” Tim non-answers, seconds away from pouting.

 

Jason scoffs louder than probably needed, eyebrow raised under his hood, mocks sarcastically, “And my names Sandy.”

 

Tim snorts, smile curling on his features, “ _What_ , you trying to tell me it’s _not_? _Damn_ , all this time and that’s what I’ve been calling you in my head.”

 

Jason grins cheekily under his helmet, “Must be ‘cause of my girlish figure.” Jason strikes an exaggerating pose like some model on the cover of a fashion magazine.

 

Tim splutters out a laugh before hiding it in his coffee cup, Jason let’s the subject change slide, watching as Tim tries and fails to disguise his smile. He takes the last couple steps needed to reach the counter before dropping down on the stool opposite Tim.

 

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.” They watch each other for a beat, Tim’s smile lingering around his eyes as he sips his coffee. Jason sighs quietly before speaking again, “You know the drug problem I’m working on?” Tim sits a little straighter, unconsciously shifting into a more attentive pose. Jason mourns a little at the change even if he knew it was coming.

 

“Yeah, what’s wrong? Do you need help with something?” Tim asks, and Jason doesn’t like the way he shifts so easily. As if part of him's been waiting for the other shoe to drop ever since Jason walked in, and here it is. _Of course Jason only needed something_. And Jason hates it, wants to punch who ever made Tim think that way.

 

Has a feeling he knows who; no normal parent let’s their child run around Gotham at night, normal parents notice shit like that and as far as Jason can tell Tim’s definitely _didn’t_. His first instincts when he’d heard had been either their dead or dead beat. And then to add insult to injury, Tim’s been hanging around _Bruce_... And _yeah_ , Jason knows how that goes. B must’ve had kittens getting Tim bright eyed on his door step, ready to work for his cause like a good toy soldier—and really, someone should’ve thrown a parenting book at his head a _long_ time ago.

 

Seeing as Jason doesn’t currently _own_ any parenting books, he resolves to just hit Batman extra hard next time he sees him. Besides, he’s definitely getting those parenting books to throw at him for later.

 

He focused back on Tim feeling resigned and a little bit guilty, “Yeah, Timmers. I think it’s safe to say I need some of your boy genius help.” That got him a little smile at least, soothing some of his worries. “I need to hack into some things, find the guy in charge of the shipments so I can shut it down from the top. And I just _know_ you’re so much better than me at this, so here I am.”

 

A bit dramatic but it does the trick, Jason watches as Tim lets a smile hang on his lips, shoulders lighter. “Are you trying to butter me up, Hood? You know I’d help either way.”

 

“Well you shouldn’t,” Jason said sincerely, “Can’t have everyone running to you when they stuff up, birdie. Get’s a little hard helping everyone.” _Save a little for yourself. Please_.

 

Tim’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying Jason so fixedly he has to stop himself from checking his helmet’s still in place, hiding his expression. The next moment Tim’s stare is gone, the room shedding some of its weight as his face smooths out. “Come on,” he stands up, walking towards the door Jason knew led to a staircase from the first time he’d met Tim, “I’ll need my computer.”

 

They walked up the stairs in relative silence, Jason looking around curiously. Unlike with the other Bats, Jason hadn’t bothered looking into Tim when he’d arrived as Red Hood. Didn’t know his floor plan off by heart like he did Dick’s apartment and the Clock Tower. He was seeing everything for the first time as he walked through Tim’s place.

 

The stairs lead into a hall way immediately, Jason could see the large room it opened up into just barely—most of the view taken up by the large widows looking towards the city center. And yeah, if the view is anything to go by, Jason thinks he knows why Tim had been eager to buy this place, it was beautiful. All the buildings and houses around Tim’s café were low level, and somehow none were obscuring Tim’s view of the business district. It had the best of both worlds, with the old gothic architecture right outside Tim’s door and the distant view of modern skyscrapers climbing Gotham’s sky line, zoomed out they look striking instead of intruding. Bright against the smog polluting the air like a thick black curtain, a thick black curtain Jason knows is set alight when the sunset hits the air just right.

 

Everything Jason loves and hates about this city framed on Timmy’s wall.

 

Doesn’t quite know what to do with the nostalgia that hits him. Settles for ignoring it resolutely as they round the corner, walking into Tim’s fairly large living room. The kitchen only separated by large stainless-steel counter tops gleaming in the low light. Jason wonders if Tim cooks, thinks if he doesn’t the kitchen is wasted on him completely, with its richly stained wooden cupboards and fancy kitchen appliances. The place is fairly bare, apart from a few of Tim’s personal items scattered around. Old takeaway coffee cups sitting abandoned on the kitchen bench and a couple thick blankets discarded on the couch giving the room a lived-in quality it would otherwise lack. Jason spy’s what must be case files spread out on the coffee table before they move on.

 

Tim passes a couple doors before finding the one he wants, opening it smoothly before walking in. Jason follows at a more sedated pace, trying to drink in the room more fully as Tim busies himself at his desk. Jason might have called the room an office if it weren’t for the multiple computer screens and monitors very clearly making it a _computer_ room, electronics set up and flashing in a way that clearly only made sense to Tim.

 

There were a couple files scattered around the room in what Jason would call a mess but to Tim was probably perfectly organized chaos. In the corner a bin was over flowing onto the floor, balled up paper and _more_ paper coffee cups. Either Tim needed to take his trash out more often or someone _really_ needs to talk to him about his caffeine habits.

 

By the time Jason moves over to Tim—watching over his shoulder as he opened several files, office chair rolling loudly over the hard wood floors as he moved back and forth—Tim had already opened several information bios, on not only the warehouse Jason had been staking out but also some grimly looking men.

 

Eventually Tim paused, looking up at Jason. “This is all I have on them so far. If you want me to hack something specific I can but—” he shrugged, gesturing vaguely. Jason took a couple steps closer, bending over to scan the files quickly as Tim watched from his chair.

 

“Tim, these are—When’d you have time to do this?” He asked, still scanning files. It looked like they were on a couple higher ups Jason had been looking for. Including home addresses and past criminal records, known and possible mob ties as well as enemies. The warehouse file included several other buildings scattered around Gotham that fit with their theme, maps pinned with their location. Honestly, Jason would be impressed if he wasn’t so surprised.

 

“Well,” Tim started, shifting forward as Jason turned to watch. “While you were staking out that building? I was,” –He leaned forward, moving the folders around with a couple key board clicks— “Hacking their cameras, they have four; one overlooking the main room—the one you were watching with all the drugs, two on the entry’s and exits and one facing an empty hall way.” The video feed sprang to life on screen as he spoke, before settling on the empty hallway.

 

“I figured the feed for an empty hallway was kind of suspicious,” Tim paused long enough to roll his eyes, “So I had my program ping me when someone walk by,”—A slightly blurred figure sped across the screen as Tim forwarded the feed, zooming in on the guys face.

 

“Then, it was just a matter of facial recognition scanning the guy,” Tim gestures to the documents and pictures on the screen, “Meet Jonathan Simians, been caught up with the police three times. Got out on bail both times all charges dropped, which is a little suspect even on its own, then accounting he’s been hanging in a warehouse full of illegal drugs... Well you get the picture. I had my program scan him around Gotham next and found him meeting with a group of people frequently at this restaurant,” Another picture took over the screen, this time of a small restaurant with booths lining the walls.

 

“A front?” Jason asks, a little concerned with interrupting Tim’s flow but not overly so—he looked more alive as he spoke, hands flying and eyes bright, passion making his hands blur faster. Voice rising in volume involuntarily as he became more and more excited. Jason thinks it’s a good look on him, then wonders how often he gets to wear it.

 

Tim answers with a grin, “Most likely. No cameras any where else though so I can’t confirm. No audio either, but what I _did_ get is a lot of known criminals hanging out together a little too often and all of them being spotted around these warehouses,”—three warehouses sprung on screen again, including the one Jason had been staking out—“So you might want to check them out before you do your bust.”

 

Silence rang for just a moment then Jason was speaking, answering Tim’s grin with one of his own, “Tim, this is amazing—you didn’t need to do all this, thank you.” And Jason meant it, sure he would’ve gotten all this info himself, but it undoubtedly would’ve cost him an extra week instead of the couple days—probably, _definitely_ less—it had taken Tim.

 

Tim’s responding smile is still a little on the small side, but to Jason it seems to take up the entire room. He wants to catch it on Tim’s lips before it fades away, but doesn’t, asks instead, “Tim? You did all this. Were you even going to tell me if I hadn’t asked for help?”

 

Tim freezes a little, expression caught like he doesn’t know what Jason wants him to say—it’s annoying because all _Jason_ wants is for Tim to tell the truth. “No?”

 

“Is that a question, bird boy?”

 

Tim fumbles a bit, “No! I mean, it’s not a question. I wasn’t going to show you.” He adds a little nod at the end like, _yes this is what I’m going with_.

 

It frustrates Jason a lot more than he’d ever admit. “And you do this a lot, do you princess?”

 

Tim hesitates again, “Yes?”

 

Jason heaves a sigh, kind of wants to hit someone over the head. Resolves to make that person _Dick_ , this is probably his fault anyway. He thinks about telling Tim he doesn’t actually _have_ to write files for everyone’s case unless they ask him to—geez, no wonder he never sleeps—but it’ll probably be a waste of breath. Instead he asks, “You do this for everyone else too? _Why_?”

 

Tim eyes widen slightly, looking a little confused. And has _no one ever_ _asked_ _him_ _about_ _this_? Do they _not know_? “Yeah... I mean, it’s easier to make sure no ones going to walk into a trap or something if I know what they’re working on. And sometimes Dick picks up too much and get’s sloppy, I need to know if he needs back up or help.”

 

And wow, at least Dick just goes ahead and throws himself in front of bullets for people. At this rate, _Tim_ is going to keep running himself thin until he collapses from lack of sleep and just _doesn’t wake up_ _for_ _twenty years_ because that’s how big his sleep debt is! Jason swears he wasn’t always surrounded by idiots.

 

He sighs again, wonders if this is how Barbara feels all the time, or Alfred—god, poor Alfred, how does he _deal with_ **_them_**. “Tim, sweetheart,” he draws in a deep breath before continuing, “You can’t just take on _everyone’s cases_ _by_ _yourself_ because your worried about them.”

 

Jason watches Tim’s face screw up in a way he’d definitely find cute if it wasn’t so concerning. “Yeah but if I don’t, they’re never going to tell me when they need back up or help!” _There it is_ , Jason knew this was all Dick’s fault... Actually, now Jason thinks about it, it’s probably _Bruce’s_ for being such an uncommunicative ass. Monkey see monkey do and Dick can be just as bad as the big guy sometimes.

 

“Does Dick know you do this? Hell, I’m sure even _Bruce_ has enough awareness to know this isn’t okay. Why don’t we just tell them, and then they can ask for help like _normal people_ instead of depending on your all knowingness.”

 

Tim levels him with an unimpressed look. “That would never work.”

 

Jason could admit to himself that he was probably right, nevertheless he accuses, “How do you know? You haven’t tried. Besides it would work enough, at the very least Dick would bug you so much about taking breaks you’d cave and take one anyway.”

 

Tim glares at him, mouth a flat line, “You wouldn’t tell.”

 

Jason snorts, he’d walk to the manor and tell Bruce himself if that’s what it came to, although he really hopes it doesn’t. “Don’t even try me, Tim-Tam.”

 

Tim glared up at Jason a little longer before glaring down at his hands, when he looked up again his face had evened out, though he still looked unhappy. “What do you want?”

 

“Joker’s head on a platter,” He responds without missing a beat, not pausing before he continues, “But for you, Timmers. How ‘bout you just sleep eight hours a night?”

 

Tim sighed like that was the hardest thing anyone’s ever asked of him. He thinks for a second longer before regarding Jason again, and Jason doesn’t like the look on his face, reminds him all too much of the time Barbie threw her milkshake at Dick’s head for being a jerk. He means, sure. He’d laughed his ass off at the time but being on the receiving end of it? Does not bond very well for Jason.

 

“What do I get if I do?” Tim asks innocently. Jason _does not_ trust that voice.

 

He scoffs loudly, hiding his wariness and says, “This is _blackmail_ , bird boy, you don’t get anything. I’m _blackmailing_ _you_. You don’t get to negotiate, that’s not how _blackmail works_.”

 

Tim smirks, eyes cheeky, “I know. I’m blackmailing _you_.”

 

 _Great_. Jason shifts cautiously on his feet, asking guardedly, “What do you possibly have to blackmail me with?”

 

“Nightwing.” He replies simply, smirk growing wider as he clearly enjoys himself, continuing with, “I’ll keep calling your location in so he can back you up.”

 

 _Damn_. Jason grits his teeth weighing his options before pronouncing blandly, “Fine. What do you want?”

 

“World peace and coffee, but for you Jay.” He mimics, voice laughing, “How ‘bout you just let me on your drug case?”

 

Jason regrets every discussion he has ever made up to this point, then wonders if this was karma for being an asshole. _Probably_. Takes a second to actually think about what he’s agreeing to. Tim helping with his case doesn’t really sound like a problem, if anything he’s lucky Tim wants to help him. Feels like there’s got to be a catch here somewhere and asks, “Define that for me, birdie?”

 

Tim blinks at him innocently. “I’ll just help you gather information to put them away.”

 

 _Hmm_. _That doesn’t sound **bad**_. He agrees reluctantly, feeling like he’s been caught in a trap but has no idea _why_. The feeling definitely doesn’t diminish when all Tim does is smile at him, looking overtly pleased with himself.

 

What Jason _does_ have enough sense of mind to realize is the huge kink he just put in his plan, feels a little less worried about it than he probably _should_ be. _Ha, who is he kidding_? He doesn’t really think it would’ve worked anyway. Looking at Tim now he figures he may as well just let this run; feels like maybe the only thing he _can_ do is hold on for the ride. It's starting to feel like less of a bad thing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow Jay, that was a little all over the place, at least he's straightened himself out lol. And Timmy, baby, gosh darn it, what are you doing child? Also, I promise Bruce isn't going to be the bad guy in this universe!
> 
> I hope you guys liked this, it was a little more character focused. What do you think? Did you like Jason thinking it through? Do you think it was in character? Should I dial it back a bit or do you want more? Please let me know!!
> 
> Also! THE PLOT THICKENS DUN DUN DAAA! What do you guys think Tim's going to do?? Also, for future reference, do you want Jason to kill the boss guys in charge of the drug shipments, and all the drama that comes with it or nah?? I can't decide and would really like some input!
> 
> Next Chapter: Tim and Jason Spend Some Time Together, Jay Goes Running to Dick
> 
> As always comment and give me any prompts you'd like to see!! I love getting feedback! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason has a bad day, but Dick's there and so is Tim-- it's almost okay until a bad day gets worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys! I am so, so sorry for the wait! My family dragged me off on an impromptu holiday and I got little time to work on this. Don't worry though! I'm back, and I've spent the last three days trying to nail this chapter.
> 
> Annnnd it's done! Pheww. I feel like they're just getting longer and longer. But, as always I hope you enjoy it. I'm hoping everything fits and it's not too out of the blue, so fingers crossed.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

To say Jason shows up more frequently for the next week is a bit of an understatement. What with the whole blackmail arrangement going on; he’d like to say they spend _all_ their time working on the case together but...

 

Well.

 

 

“You do know I was never Robin, right?” Tim asks around a smile he can’t quite bite back with his teeth, eyes light with something Jason’s starting to wish he saw a lot more of. His fingers still tapping along his laptop as he spoke, barely glancing up from the screen of his laptop. “You can’t call me bird boy.”

 

Jason grins back hugely from his spot on the couch; ever since he’d agreed to work with Tim they’d been spending less and less time in the café and more and more time in Tim’s apartment upstairs. He’d say sorry for disrupting Tim’s altogether unhealthy business commitment, but. _Well_.

 

They’d instead set up camp in Tim’s living room. Jason quickly taking over one of the couches and Tim perching himself on one of the comfortable looking chairs, laptop securely in hand.

 

Jason himself has gathered all the info he had already in case files to show Tim—they’re currently littering the living room in a wide spread mess. Mostly they haven’t found any new leads, but that has more to do with them not really _needing_ any new leads—what with all the warehouses mapped out and most of the men and women in charge neatly found thanks to Tim. Right now, they’re just biding time, building up a steady level of surveillance footage thanks to Tim; Jason’s further resigned himself to another couple stakeouts, they want to get it all nailed at once and that means patience and planning. _Joy_.

 

He focuses back on Tim, looking up at him before addressing—smile still in place under his helmet, “What? You telling me you _didn’t_ spend half your childhood bird watching? That alone gives me plenty of ammo to call you bird boy, bird boy.”

 

Tim looks only slightly abash; laughter stuck somewhere behind his lips. His eyes dart up to look at Jason before refocusing on the computer screen. Voice mock serious he retorts, “Maybe.” Then starts in a falsely animated voice, “But now I’m older and wiser, I _know_ I could find better looking birds just about _anywhere_.”

 

Jason keeps grinning, his own laughter trapped in his throat as he flips through the file he’s holding absently. Says in a tone that would be solemn if he weren’t speaking around a smile, “Timmy. You’re going to go break Dick’s heart saying stuff like that.”

 

Tim snorts a laugh, shoulders jumping up at the force of it. It’s strange how expressive he can be when he’s not thinking about it, Jason thinks he likes the change; carefully planned out Timmy is no fun anyway.

 

Tim continues, unbothered by Jason, “Yeah because Dick is who I was talking about...”

 

Jason’s smile turns a little sharper, hurt sound in his throat. Looks back towards Tim with an offended look on his face that makes its way passed his mask and into his body language. “I’ll have you know, Tim-Tam, you’d be _lucky_ to find a bird as good looking as _me_.”

 

Tim continues to smile, and they lapse into comfortable silence. The tapping of Tim’s keyboard and paper shuffling around every so often making up the only sounds in the room.

 

Jason himself let’s his mind wonder—attention only half on the words in front of him. It seems he’s read it all a million times, feels like they could blur together and lose all meaning any second. Except _no_. They can’t. No amount of boring repetition could ever numb the righteous anger that comes with this particular case. _These scum bags sell drugs to kids_.

 

He just wants to be out there _doing_ something. Feels indignation prickling his skin; here he is sitting pretty while those bastards are having a merry good time fucking up people’s lives, and he _hates_ it. God, he wants to _do_ something but _no_ —they have to fucking plan like the professionals they apparently are now. What a shit show.

 

He must let out a sigh of frustration or some other outwards sign of irritation _or_ he amuses for a second, maybe Tim really _is_ psychic, because he looks up from his laptop, fingers pausing. Eyebrows pulled together like he’s stumbled on a particularly interesting puzzle. _How cute_.

 

“Hood?” Jason does pause in shuffling around the papers but otherwise doesn’t react at the address. “What is it?”

 

Jason keeps his head perfectly stagnant, still tilted towards the files he’s holding but lets his eyes drift. Shifting to peer at Tim from behind his hood. _Should he tell him_? Because while they’d been doing a great job at avoiding the elephant in the room Jason doesn’t think something like _oh you know, just annoyed to be sitting around when mostly I want to be putting bullets in all these lovely heads_ is a great way to bring up his wholly murderous self.

 

He takes a breath before rolling his shoulders casually under Tim’s heavy gaze. Drops the paper he’d been holding before saying, “Just rather be punching up the criminals than watch them do criminal things.” He jerks his head in the direction of Tim’s laptop, says mostly teasing, “I don’t know how you stand it.”

 

Eyes narrowing slightly as Tim’s face does _something_ before turning deceptively inoffensive, great. That only put _all_ his suspicions on edge.

 

Tim watches him a couple seconds longer before saying carefully, “You know I do go out in the field sometimes. I’ve got a uniform and everything, it’s mostly non indicative.”

 

Jason doesn’t really feel like touching on what the hell _non indicative_ means. “B lets you go out?”

 

Tim shifts fully, facing Jason more properly than he has in the entire time they’d been working. “It’s not like Bruce can _stop_ me.” He looks a little put out before adding reluctantly, “But yeah. I’ve been okayed or whatever. Batman seal of approval.” Jason has several questions he wants to ask about all _that_ but doesn’t. Waits for Tim to continue because he doesn’t look very nearly _done_.

 

“Actually...” He looks a little reluctant to continue, _nervous_. What even is happening.

 

His eyes shift around Jason’s helmet before settling fixedly, looking at him a little bracingly. “I was thinking—well,” Pause then in a rush, “Maybe I could come with you on this case? You know, in the field.”

 

Jason blinks and then before he can fully comprehend, he’s saying in the flattest voice ever, “No.” Which, good call subconscious Jason. Very eloquent.

 

All at once Tim’s demeanor shifts. Jason doesn’t know how the hell he’d ever looked nervous in his _life_ ; let alone two seconds ago—because right now he looks about ready to take someone’s head off. Jason would find that unholy attractive if it weren’t aimed at _him_.

 

As it is, not as fun.

 

“But I’ve been in the field before! What makes you think you can stop me.” Then before Jason can even answer, “Besides! Weren’t you just asking me how I could _stand_ sitting around on the sidelines?” Jason winced minutely because no _not really_ — “Well, here’s your answer; I’m _not_.”

 

“That was _not_ an invitation to come party it up with me bird boy.”

 

Tim’s eyes narrow at him, flashing angerly before saying, “No of course. Why would Red Hood want help when he can do it all himself?”

 

Jason rolls his eyes, “That’s not what I meant—”

 

“Right, great. Then you can just let me join you—”

 

“ _Tim_. Stop. You can’t come with me when I bust them, it’ll be a disaster. Something would go wrong,” _You’d get hurt_. “Dick would give me the disappointed face so really it’s best for everyone if you just don’t.”

 

Tim looks a little frustrated, standing there rigidly. “I’m perfectly capable of not _fucking this up_ , thank you very much.”

 

Jason sighs, “Tim—”

 

“I don’t see why you don’t think I can do this,” That’s no what he’d meant _at all_ — “If anything taking everyone out and getting the extra info would be easier with me th—"

 

“No.” Jason says firmly, voice leaving no room for argument.

 

Tim mustn’t get the memo though, because he stands a little taller, eyes defiant. “What do you mean _no_? We had a deal!”

 

“That you’d help me gather info for this case, _yes_. _Not_ that you’d come _with me_ on the case!”

 

Tim pouts at him, shoulders drawing higher as he gears up for another rebuttal, “This is gathering info for the case! You need someone to get the hard files stored in the warehouse. It would be more efficient if _I_ gather the info while _you_ take out the crooks!”

 

Jason makes a face under his mask, mind twisting as he thinks, “No, we’re not doing this. I didn’t agree to this.” Then when Tim opens his mouth, “ _No_. You _manipulated_ me, I didn’t agree to this. I _won’t_ agree to this. It’s too dangerous.”

 

Jason feels a little weary when Tim’s expression doesn’t change, watches tiredly as he opens his mouth again, “But it’s not! I’m trained! I’ll just sneak in while you cause a distraction!”

 

Jason sighs, closes his eyes under his helmet breathes for _one_ , _two_ , then, “I don’t care, you’re not coming. This is _my_ case; I don’t want you in that warehouse.”

 

Tim’s eyes harden, body bracing like he’s walking into battle instead of conversing, “If you don’t _let_ me come on this case, I’ll just go on my _own_. What’re you going to do? Lock me in my _room_? I’ve been _trained_ to get out.”

 

Jason sighs again. He doesn’t care if Tim’s been trained, he doesn’t want him coming into that warehouse. Hell, Jason had been _trained_ —look where he’d ended up. “Tim...” Another sigh, “Why do you want to come so badly? I can do this by myself.”

 

Something flashes too fast across Tim’s face then he’s saying, “Just because you _can_ doesn’t mean you _should_. You blackmailed me into sleeping more, and now you’re just going to walk into a warehouse full of thugs _by yourself_! How is that good for _your_ health?”

 

 _It’s not but at least it’s not **you**_. “Don’t put words in my mouth, that’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

 

“Yes,” Tim hisses annoyed, “It’s not what _you_ meant, you seem quite happy to stand around being a _hypocrite_. Well, you don’t get to! This isn’t a one-way road! You don’t just get to protect me, Jason!” He draws in a breath before saying utterly earnest, “ _We protect each other_.”

 

It takes Jason’s breath away a little, he wonders how he’d gotten to this point; what he’d done in his past lives to have Tim Drake say those words. It’s all kinds of humbling and mostly takes all the fight right out of Jason. _Hadn’t this been what he’d wanted_?

 

Not quite, he thinks. Looking at Tim though... He feels like everything he’d wanted up until this point had been wrong.

 

It must be because looking at Tim... Everything he wants is right there.

 

 

Safe to say, he gives in. It’s becoming a bit of a habit honestly.

 

He doesn’t mind so much.

 

 

 

Somehow, they end up on Tim’s rooftop. The view is as spectacular as Jason thought it would be. Smog still visible even in the night, streetlights lighting up the world below—or not, considering only about every third one actually _works_. There are of course sirens blaring in the distance but otherwise the night is quiet, obscenely polluted winds brushing against them every couple of seconds. It’s not what most people would call comforting, but then most people aren’t brought up in Gotham. Reasonably, no one should even _live_ here, but of course that’s half the appeal to anyone who _has_.

 

He swings his legs a couple times, watches as they rise—hanging over the edge of the building before hitting the wall with a dull thud.

 

He shifts, shoulders almost brushing against Tim with how close they’re sitting, asks seemingly to the open air, “Why don’t you have a field name, anyway?”

 

He can feel Tim still, imagines him twisting up his nose and smiles behind the helmet. Waits for Tim’s confused, “What?”

 

He shifts again, shoulders _almost_ brushing together, looks out at the city, “I mean, why do we just call you T?” He snorts loudly, hopefully conveying how much he likes _that_ idea _,_ “You need a code name; I’m surprised Dickie didn’t give you one.”

 

This time it’s Tim who snorts. Jason can feel the air shift as Tim moves beside him. Thinks maybe he could close his eyes and just _be_ ; even with a view as good as this. Tim’s voice sounds unimpressed at the idea, says, “He _tried_. _I_ didn’t _like_ them.”

 

Jason pauses, legs stilling from their fidgeting, “So, you _don’t_ want a code name?”

 

The air shifts again and he assumes Tim shrugs. Waits a second longer just to make sure he won’t actually reply then adds only half joking, “Why don’t you just pick a bird name and be done with it, birdie?”

 

Tim remains unconvinced, makes a tiny _hm_ in his throat before saying, “Maybe.”

 

If Jason wasn’t _so_ _nice_ , he’d be scoffing rather loudly. “Not _maybe_. I literally can _not_ continue to call you T over the comms. It’s _embarrassing_.”

 

Jason can see Tim wave his arms around from the corner of his eye, grins slightly at the pure exasperation held in each movement. “You don’t call me that _anyway_!”

 

His grin stays, eyes squinting slightly at the force of it. “ _Look_ , it’s the principle of the thing. You need a code name. Even _Alfred_ has a code name.” He huffs quietly then adds, “It’s a Bat rite of passage.”

 

Tim let’s his hands drop into his lap and Jason follows the movement from the corner of his eye; action hidden safely behind his mask. He watches Tim’s expression do something funny as he says, “I’m not technically a Bat.”

 

Jason lets out a quick unconvinced laugh, shoulders shaking as he throws his head back. Says more to Gotham’s starless sky than Tim, “ _Right_. Try telling _them_ that, sweetheart.” He settles before snorting and adds, “Besides, _Babs_ is a Bat and she’s not related or anything.”

 

Tim moves again, eyes shifting to look at Jason before moving back to the view. “Yeah.” He relents, “But her and Dick are basically soulmates—I don’t think that counts.”

 

“Unless this is your way of asking me to rescue you from their insanity, I think you should give it up.” Jason watches as Tim continues to frown and continues a little put out himself, “Look. Tim, it’s cute you think Bruce didn’t adopt you, _really_. But he’s got a problem. Alfred probably has to give him the eyebrows every time he sees an orphan with black hair. Geeze, he’s like a kid in a toy shop, can’t just have _one_.” Pauses for a second before saying contemplatively, “It’s actually kind of creepy that he has a _type_.”

 

Tim _actually_ rolls his eyes at him, like _full body eye roll_. Speaks in a clipped tone, “I’ll think about a code name. Just _stop talking_.”

 

“ _Wow_ , rude Timmy. To think I was starting to like you.”  Jason likes to think he can feel Tim’s smile even without looking at him—it’s a pretty good feeling.

 

They sit in comfortable silence for a while.

 

Then, “What about you?”

 

Jason peers at Tim again, finds him already looking back, face mostly curious. “Whadda ya mean, Tim-Tam?”

 

Tim’s lips purse a little and he seems to think. Eyebrows pulled together a little before saying resolutely, “Well… are you going to change _your_ name?”

 

His mind goes a little blank, finding it a little hard to discern what that means. Blinks a couple times before answering, “Uh _no_. Why would I?”

 

Tim frowns in thought before explaining, “Well… I mean, you got Robin from Dick and became Red Hood because of the Joker… Don’t you want your _own_ name?”

 

Jason was silent for a long time. Tries to run the thought over in his head if only to get used to the idea. “I’ve never really thought about it.” Which, _he hadn’t_. Aside from the whole _I’m making Red Hood mine and fuck everyone_ thing.

 

Tim nods like _yes, I knew this was the case all along_. Says voice perfectly reasonable, “Well. Do you _want_ to be Red Hood forever?”

 

 _Does he_? Jason tries to think about it but really just doesn’t know—hadn’t thought he’d last long enough to change it _. Isn’t that what happened last time_?

 

“Honestly?” He says to Tim, “I didn’t think I’d get around to changing it.” Let Timmy take that whatever way he wants.

 

But Tim doesn’t peruse the conversation any further, just knocks their shoulders together lightly before saying gently, “Yeah well, now you can.”

 

Jason feels a little reverence for the future because, yeah—he can actually do that.

 

They sit together for a little longer, something a little bigger than _comfortable_ in the silence; then Jason’s standing. Tim looks up at him from where he’s sat—feet dangling over the rooftop—looks back at the view again before following. He yawns hugely as he gets to his feet. Steps halting a little at the size of it.

 

Jason nudges him along gently. “Come on, nonspecifically named bird boy. Time for bed.”

 

Tim smiles at him over his shoulder before continuing—says only a touch defensive, “Hey. I’ve been getting eight hours sleep just like I promised.” Towards the end his smile turns proud.

 

And _fuck_ , his proud little smile should _not_ look this cute. Jason kind of wants to chase it away with his lips—feels a little regretful that his helmet's still in place—that he can’t take it _off_.

 

Says in a tone he hopes is exasperated, “Good job, Timmy. That’s only the amount of sleep you’re _meant_ to be getting.”

 

Tim continues to bicker unhalted by Jason’s little crisis, “Yeah well, last night I got eight hours sleep _straight_. Didn’t wake up _once_.” The feeling definitely doesn’t go away when Jason looks at him again, because really—did Tim _always_ look this good under the hallway lights?

 

They make it into the lounge room before speaking again, “Do you want me to give you a copy of the surveillance we’ve recorded so far?” Tim looks at Jason as he gathers up his laptop, moving around the room lazily.

 

Jason makes some vague noise of denial in the back of his throat, watching Tim shuffle around—and he would speak _really_ , it’s just _he really wants to kiss Tim right now_ and sure, _okay_. He _knew_ that. He just didn’t think he’d want to _this much_.

 

Feels all kinds of anxiety stirring up because suddenly he really wants to take his helmet off—but that is such a bad idea, except its _not_. But _no_ —he can’t.

 

Tim looks up questioningly, apparently noticing Jason’s strange demeanour at last. “You okay?”

 

Jason coughs lightly, “Yeah.” Continues a little too quickly, “Don’t worry about the surveillance. You have more than one copy, right?” Tim opens his mouth, but Jason doesn’t wait for him to speak. The question was mostly rhetorical anyway, of course Tim had more than one copy. “Don’t worry about it, Timmy. That’s fine.”

 

Tim frowns but Jason doesn’t wait, “Make sure you sleep Tim-Tam! I’ll lock the door on the way out!” Back already turned away as he makes his way down the stairs to the café.

 

To say Jason flees fairly fast is an understatement.

 

Because really, wanting to kiss Tim is like half the problem. Actually, it doesn’t seem like a problem _at all_ when all Jason can feel is the rapid churning anxiety trying to climb up his throat. Like the worlds narrowing down to just his hands shaking no matter how much he holds them still, legs buzzing with restless energy in an all too familiar way. It feels like the ground could slip from under his feet any second and then he’d be _falling,_ and he rea _lly_ _does not want to think about this_ —

 

Sucks in a huge startling breath and _holds_.

 

Exhales loudly though his mouth.

 

Breaths in much the same then holds _again_.

 

_Exhale._

 

_Breath._

 

_Hold._

 

Continues the pattern until he feels a little more human—until breathing gets a little less hard.

 

Gets on his bike and _fucking **drives**._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jason can’t really bring himself to regret storming into Dick’s apartment at two in the morning. Dick’s a _vigilantly_ , that’s basically ten o’clock for them. But whatever, he doesn’t regret storming in at two. He _definitely_ doesn’t regret storming in even when he finds Dickhead on top of his _fridge_ with a bowl of _cereal_ — _for god sake Dickhead, what the hell—_ and his Nightwing costume pulled down to his waist, spoon hanging from his mouth comically as he froze.

 

Jason doesn’t even regret it as he throws himself down on Dick’s couch, unlatching his helmet with a huff, peeling his domino mask off as an afterthought before looking back to where Dick was still frozen—spoon in mouth, tracking the 2am tornado that is Jason Todd across the room with his eyes.

 

What Jason _does_ regret is that he has _absolutely no idea_ what he’s meant to tell Dickhead.

 

He means, _sure_ they might be talking semi regularly without trying to tear each other to pieces, figuratively and literally. And _fine_ , they might even be getting _on_ , but Jason hasn’t seen him without masks between them since the last time he’d shown up unannounced at Dickie’s place.

 

He really needs to think this shit through _before_ he’s already at Dick’s apartment, because seriously, this is turning into a bad habit.

 

They stare at each other for several long seconds before Dick peels the spoon out of his mouth and gracefully unravels himself from where he’d been perched on his fridge, placing his bowl of cereal on the counter with a click as he goes. He must see something on Jason’s face because he doesn’t even ask.

 

Just throws, “This looks like a clothes conversation! I’m going to change, _berightback!_ ” over his shoulder as he skids into his bedroom.

 

Jason heaves a whole-body sigh, throwing his head back against the couch with a dull thump to stare at Dick’s moldy ceiling. _What even is his life?_

 

Jason hears the door click open minutes later, doesn’t bother moving his head but follows along with his eyes as Dick walks over, sits gingerly on the chair opposite, now dressed in sweats and a t-shirt.

 

“Soo, Little Wing,” He starts just as tentatively, “Gonna tell me what’s up?”

 

Jason rolls his eyes back to the ceiling in an exaggerated motion. “Nup.”

 

Dick raises an eyebrow, asking again, “So, there isn’t a reason you’re breaking into my apartment at two in the morning?”

 

Jason rolls his eyes back to Dick lazily, answering again with an unconvincing, “Nope.”

 

Dick levels him with an unimpressed look before drawling, “Right.” A beat then realization seems to flood his face. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Tim does it?”

 

Jason glares harder at the ceiling, mouth a flat line and when he doesn’t answer Dick speaks again, smirk clear in his voice, “Did you storm into my apartment at two in the morning because you were having _boy troubles_?” He chuckles quietly under his breath, “You’ve been holding out on me, Bluejay.”

 

When Jason still doesn’t answer he sighs softly, nudging their feet together gently, “C’mon Jason, tell me what happened.”

 

Jason mumbles something that sounds vaguely insulting still glaring at the ceiling. “Jay-son,” Dick crooned softly, “Tell me what happened.”

 

He waited in expectant silence for a second before huffing loudly, when it became clear Jay wasn’t going to say anything he proclaimed, “Fine, be like that.” His voice full of false attitude, Dick gets up shoving Jason over to make room for himself on the couch as he reaches for the tv remote. “Move over, then. I want to watch tv.” Jason lets him, moving his glare to Dick, but otherwise doesn’t say anything as Dick turns the tv onto some late-night soap opera.

 

They sit together for a while watching with half an ear as some lady continued yelling at her boyfriend. Jason even pretends he doesn’t know what Dick’s doing. Letting himself relax back into the couch, glare easing and shoulders leaking away tension. Lets the inane tv drama lull away at his worries.

 

Finally, he moved his gaze to his hands—mentally sighing—still annoyed at this entire situation. Said through not-so-gritted teeth, “I want to take my helmet off around Tim but can’t.”

 

He could feel Dick shifting towards him, switching his attention to him immediately and tried to let it ease him from his now nearly hunched over position. _It’s just Dickhead_.

 

Dick hummed quietly, encouraging, before replying, “Why not Jay?”

 

And this was the whole problem wasn’t it? Because the reason he didn’t want to take his helmet off had nothing to do with Tim to begin with. He clenched his teeth together— _hard_ , exhaling through his nose loudly before forcefully relaxing himself. He turns towards Dick, wishing momentarily the couch were bigger so he could drag his feet up to his chest. Jason resists laughing out his skepticism, like that would protect him.

 

He looks at Dick for a long moment before forcing himself to speak again, “Do you know why I decided to where the helmet?”

 

Dick pauses thinking carefully, before clarifying, “You mean apart from all the Red Hood stuff?” Jason nods; glad Dick was at least trying to avoid all the land mines that came with _that_ conversation. “I don’t know.”—Dick half shrugs— “Helmet’s better head protection than a domino.”

 

Jason pushed away the memories trying to resurface, ignored the phantom throbbing of his head with all the if-I-can’t-see-it-it’s-not-there stubbornness he’s perfected over the years. _Not this_ _conversation_. “Yeah. But I was fighting _Batman_ and probably _you_.” He couldn’t look Dick in the eye anymore, stared instead at the collar of his t-shit. “We’ve both been trained to read facial expressions, use other people’s emotions to manipulate them. I didn’t want to give him another weapon.” _Still don’t_.

 

“Okay.” Dick agreed lightly, letting that conversation go. “What’s this got to do with Tim, Little Wing?”

 

Jason frowns; eyes tight. If he was having this conversation with _Dick,_ he wasn’t going to make it _easy_. “It’s a Thing.”

 

Dick waited for an elaboration eyes furrowed, before asking, “What’s a thing?”

 

“Me taking off my helmet. It’s a Thing.”

 

Jason could practically feel the frown Dick was aiming at him and any other time he might’ve found vindictive pleasure in being unhelpful but right now he felt too uncomfortable to do anything. Dick was silent, thinking for several long minutes—obviously rolling the words over in his head as he tried to work out what Jason meant.

 

Finally, he said, “You mean like an anxiety thing Thing?” Jason let himself half shrug, not saying anything, but Dick seemed to take that as a yes and continued. “So, wait. You mean, you wore the helmet so we couldn’t use your emotions against you, so now it’s like a protection thing. And you have to wear it otherwise someone’s going to use your emotions against you which wasn’t a problem when people probably _were_ going to use your emotions against you but now they’re not and you want to take it off around Tim but can’t because it’s a Thing?”

 

 _Huh_. That was weirdly accurate. “When’d you get so smart Dickiebird?” Jason mocked, looking up at Dick again, who was still frowning.

 

“This is so annoying.” Dick continued dramatically, completely ignoring Jason’s words. “How are you meant to marry Tim into the family officially if you can’t take your helmet off around him?”

 

Jason spluttered, “ _What_ —I didn’t, I haven’t—Who said I even _liked_ Tim?”

 

Dick just smirked wickedly, “I have it on good accord from _Babs_.”

 

Jason blinked. “ _Barbie_. _What_?” He asked voice a little high, “Have you been _spying_ on me? _What the hell Dickhead_.”

 

Dick didn’t look the least bit chastised—a pleased smile chasing his smirk away, “What? Barbara was a little concerned when the big bad Red Hood strolled into Tim’s coffee shop. Don’t worry though, she’s less worried now that she knows you just wanted to _flirt_ with him.”

 

“I didn’t flirt with him, you big gossip! That’s not what happened, I _told_ you what happened!”

 

And there was Dick’s stupid smirk again. “Sure thing, Jay,” He said lazily, ignoring Jason as he grumbled angrily under his breath and instead added, “Besides, that’s not the point. Tim’s not going to use your emotions to hurt you.”

 

“I know that!” Jason said, voice high with frustration, “That doesn’t really help!”

 

“Okay, got it. Stating the obvious, not helping.” Dick chewed on his cheek thoughtfully before saying, “Don’t you go out as a civilian?”

 

Jason rolled his eyes, “Yes _Dick_ , I go out as a civilian.”

 

“Great!” Dick said cheerily, a wide grin growing on his face. “Why don’t you just go to Tim’s place as a civilian?”

 

Jason quirked a tired but sincere smile back at him, not positive he’s really going to do that or not. Said nonetheless, “Thanks Dickiebird.”

 

If possible, Dick’s smile seemed to grow wider, he nudged their shoulders together before speaking, “You want to stay? The couch pulls out into a bed.”

 

“Nah.” Jason denied softly putting his domino mask on before standing, “I better go. _Some_ of us actually have productive things to do in the morning. Y’know, instead of sitting around eating cereal.”

 

“Hey!” Dick cried out incredulously. “That is _offensive_. I take _offence_ to that, Jay. Besides, I am _very_ productive in the morning!”

 

Jason just smirked walking towards the door. “Sure thing, Dick.”

 

Before Jason could make it through the doorway Dick called out again causing him to pause, “Hey! You don’t wear your helmet around me.”

 

Jason scoffed automatically, looking over his shoulder at Dick. He was grinning at Jason like the cat that just got the cream. “Yeah well, don’t let it go to your head, pretty boy. It’s a Thing, it’s not meant to make sense.”

 

Dick smiled softer and Jason let him. Didn’t tell him that the reason it was so easy around Dick was because using each other’s emotions to hurt was something they’d been doing long before Jason came back as Red Hood. Jason trusted they’d hurt each other more then he trusted them not to. It was okay though; it came pretty readily with their relationship.

 

Jason was as prepared as he could be for when that happened. In the meantime, he was just going to enjoy having his brother back.

 

Besides, he thinks, remembers being 13 and scared but to stubborn to admit it after a particularly killer fight. Remembers being angry at Dick and himself, mad that he’d just ruined _everything_ with no idea how to fix it. He remembers Dick showing up at the gates of Gotham Academy two days later—a sheepish smile on his lips and ice cream in hand.

 

He remembers all those times after, being 14, being 15 and still just as scared after every one of their fights. He remembers Dick turning up with that stupid smile on his face every single time.

 

Jason’s not 13 anymore and if there’s one thing he knows it’s Dick Grayson will always come back. It’s who he is.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jason goes on patrol the next night instead of turning up at Tim’s place. He wouldn’t say he’s _avoiding_ him—he’s _not_. But grappling over building after building is all kinds of soothing. Wind making muffled swooping noises in his ear, it reminds him oddly of the mournful sounds the wind would make against the manor’s closed windows during winter.

 

Which reminds him of all the winters _before_ the manor, thinks the wind turns a little more haunted in his ear at the thought. Jason resists pulling his jacket more securely around himself wholly as he continues swinging. Let’s his grapple fly ahead of him with familiar, practiced ease. Drops in a low curve before pulling, lands safely on the next roof.

 

Boots pattering lightly against the rooftop—he can of course walk as silently as the best of ‘em but doesn’t bother. Purposely let’s his feet fall in a constant sound. Just his feet and the wind echoing high above the city. That’s what it feels like some days, like it’s just one foot after the other floating too high above the world. Sometimes it’s a weird kind of comforting, but others... it’s like he’s shockingly aware every step he takes could send him crashing back to earth.

 

He keeps moving. Walks to the edge of the rooftop—balances on the ledge with quick smart movements, takes a breath and holds for several long seconds looking down at the ground. It sways a little, like when he was a kid and _terrified_ of heights. It didn’t stop him from climbing but that of course didn’t stop the ground from looking just a little too far away.

 

He drops down, sitting. Takes his helmet off easily, movement leaving him a little bitter. He stares at shiny red and shiny red stares back. _Does he want to take his helmet off around Tim_?

 

Yes. The answer comes easily and his stomach twists. Does he really though? Does he really want to take his helmet off and everything that comes _with_ it? _Could_ he?

 

Ah yes, the real question—the answer is again _yes_ , it’s as simple as flipping the latch and lifting it off his head. He’s done it a million times. So why does it seem so hard?

 

He abandons it next to him, looks out at the view and pretends he can’t feel its weight heavily next to him—pretends he doesn’t hold himself carefully away from it like every problem he’s ever had has suddenly manifested into it.

 

It’s funny, Jason actually wishes this _was_ a life or death situation—then he could just fucking _deal_ with it. Boom; helmet off, save the world, no one dies. Simple. It’s a little concerning how many of his problems he’s dealt with that way. _Goddamn_ , he needs some therapy.

 

 _Everyone_ needs some therapy—why the hell isn’t there a super hero and/or villain therapist? Imagine how much less shit he’d have to deal with if people actually dealt with their problems like normal people instead of deciding to, _I don’t know_ blow something up.

 

_What, Karen? You mean I **shouldn’t** act on my murderous urges? Gosh golly, thanks. _

 

Maybe Gotham just really has a shortage of therapists and that’s why it’s so fucked. God help everyone one when they get their shit together.

 

Jason snorts at the wind. Right... because _that’s_ gonna happen...

 

The day Bruce decides to sit down and sort out his mass amount of issues is the day Jason quite happily shoots himself in the face.

 

Jason let’s his eyes drift along the horizon, feeling more relaxed than ever; who knew? All he needed was a reminder that Bruce was a complete disaster of a human being and everything seems right in the world.

 

His helmet makes a quiet beeping sound beside him—Jason side eyes it suspiciously, grimacing. It makes a second, more insistent beeping noise causing him to sigh. He grabs the helmet, placing it back on his head with a click. “ _Y’ellow_? Red Hood catering service; you’ve got the order, I’ve got the slaughter! How can I help you—”

 

“Hood!”

 

“Tim-Tam! What’s up?” Jason answers, already standing and grappling away.

 

“Listen, we may have a... situation.” Jason doesn’t like that hesitation _at all_. “Do you think you could meet me?”

 

“What _type_ of _situation_ , bird boy? Ya gotta give me something better than that.” Jason says like he wasn’t already heading towards Tim’s place.

 

“Look it’s a little complicated. _Kind of_?”

 

“Kind of?” Jason echoes, unconvinced. “What kind of _kind of_?”

 

“Hood!” Tim let’s out a very clear sound of frustration over the comm, “Just meet me downstairs, okay?” And then he’s gone; comm flashing out in a mockery of the first time he’d contacted Jason. It definitely doesn’t feel the same.

 

Jason rounds the corner a little faster, a bad impression filling his gut.

 

The café seems suspiciously in order when he touches down, sitting there innocently—Jason’s not so fooled—he walks in. Spotting Tim almost immediately, sat on the counter with his laptop. He’s frowning quite heavily down at it but otherwise everything seems to be in its place.

 

Ah, so this is probably the _sort of_ that is a little impolite to drop over comm link. The thought doesn’t reassure Jason any. Still, he makes his way over, ducking behind the counter easily to stand behind Tim. Peers over his shoulder to maybe make some sense of what’s going on.

 

It, predictably, doesn’t help. So, he asks, “Timmy! What’s happening?”

 

Tim finishes typing before pushing his laptop away, turns towards Jason with a sigh. And o-kay, not a _great_ sign but whatever.

 

“Tim-Tam, Timmy,” He says again but doesn’t continue, just waits for Tim to speak. He watches patiently as Tim side eyes his laptop like all _his_ problems have suddenly popped up in its form. God damn, what is it with inanimate objects today. It’s like they’re _trying_ to make life difficult.

 

His thoughts stutter to a close when Tim looks back at him, watches as Tim hesitates—looking very clearly reluctant. And isn’t that just doing all kinds of things to Jason’s nerves. “Tim?” He prompts. Tim’s brows pull together, lips pinching into a frown—but he looks at Jason face steeling a little.

 

Jason’s own expression pulls together to mirror him—he waits and then Tim is saying, “Bruce is looking for you.”

 

His breath catches in his throat, mind running a mile an hour as Tim continues to look at him. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, too busy processing but then, “You mean, you _haven’t_ told him where I am?”

 

Jason kind of assumed Tim would tell Bruce where he was immediately, had been waiting for him to show up out of the blue in one of his safe houses ever since his comm was hacked all those weeks ago. Probably stand dramatically in the corner just because he could, and people wonder were he and Dick get it from—well _Dick’s_ probably dramatic because he’s _Dick_ but Bruce walking around in a bat suit definitely didn’t help matters.

 

Tim looks overtly offend at the idea, and Jason well—he doesn’t really know _why_. “No, of course not!” Then pauses, thoughtful look on his face. He seems to think before adding a little tentative, “I think he knows somethings up anyway.”

 

 _And there it is_. He’s a little surprised that’s it though, opens his mouth, “So, Bruce _has_ tried to speak to you?”

 

Tim’s nose scrunches up, replies half way through the motion, “Yeah, he wanted to know if I knew where you were.”

 

“ _What_? And you just didn’t tell him?” Then adds, “What _did_ you tell him?”

 

Tim looks distinctly put out, frown marring his face, “Nothing, I promise.” Stops then adds, “I just lied.”

 

 _Great_. _That’s_ reassuring. “You _just_ lied. To Batman.” He continues false enthusiasm bleeding into his voice, “ _Awesome_ he probably saw straight through that and should be expected on my door step tomorrow.”

 

Tim looks startled at his statement, hands flying up like he can catch his words from the air. “What _? No_! I’ve lied to Bruce before.” He lowers his hands slowly back to his lap, eyes still trained on Jason, “And anyway, it doesn’t matter. I hacked into the facial scanners in the Cave _weeks_ ago, he’s not going to get a ping even if you show up on _his_ door step—though I wouldn’t recommend trying to break in because there’s still a lot of secu—"

 

“Tim!” Jason cuts in, stopping his rambling in its tracks—somehow endlessly reassured at the sight of it. He asks feeling more even footed than he had their entire conversation, shoulders relaxing back into they’re normal slouch. Voice his normal smooth rumble, “Why did you hack into the Cave weeks ago, I hadn’t even _met_ you properly weeks ago.” Because Jason gets the impression that by weeks Tim really means weeks and weeks. Is proven correct when Tim doesn’t refute.

 

Tim shifted cautiously, “Well,” He sighs, then continues in a rush—words falling faster and faster the longer he talks, “I didn’t trust Bruce to make the right decisions about you—he’s way to compromised.” He hesitates, looks like he doesn’t know how to phrase his next words, “Besides, I didn’t stop him from finding out if you did something bad or not. And Babs can still find you anywhere, and I mean so can I!” He stops, looking down then back, says quietly, “I just, didn’t trust Batman with this.”

 

Something in Jason softens, starting at his collar bone and melting down into his toes, like hot chocolate warming his entire body. Still he asks, “You risked B’s anger for me Timmy?”

 

Tim’s lips purse tightly, turning white under the pressure, “It wouldn’t have been that bad,” Tim sounded a little sullen when he speaks next—lips flipping into a negligible frown, “He’d probably just lecture me then not speak to me outside of cases for a while.” Tim tries to look unaffected, but the thought clearly bothers him, “Besides, I doubt anything could be worse than him and Dick fighting,” Then after a second as an afterthought, “No offense.”

 

Jason _was_ kind of offended, he’d put a lot of effort into fighting Batman, but he gets what Tim means. Bruce and Dick fighting had always been pretty unnerving, and the bad side of terrifying. Like mum and dad fighting in the other room while you listen at the door, except _worse_. Which, _ew_. Wrong analogy to make but it’s _true_. Luckily, they’d mostly cooled out before Jason had died—he speculates briefly what Dick had to be mad at Bruce for, then chases the thought away—wonders if he _really_ wants to know. But anyway, Tim still risked Bruce’s anger, for _him_.

 

Which brings his mind back to the matter at hand—he focuses on Tim asking cautiously, teeth slow to move like they’d been stuck together with glue as he stopped to breath, “Tim... Why is Bruce looking for me?”

 

Tim hesitates for a moment, brows tightening together like a worm crawling across his forehead, lips pinched. Starts warily, “He thinks you killed some child traffickers down at the harbor. He’s been working on the case for a while and they turned up dead yesterday.” He stops, studying Jason carefully.

 

Jason’s mind goes a little blank, static spinning in his head—he hadn’t killed anyone in months—hasn’t needed to, but _still_. Bruce accusing him of murder so quickly—it makes his insides twist together, stomach clenching painfully. It’s stupid. Jason hasn’t seen Batman in so long, he knows Bruce has no reason to trust him, no reason to give him the benefit of the doubt. But... he’d thought maybe—

 

“Hood?” Tim’s voice grounds him, mind clicking back into place he focuses on Tim. _Tim_. He hadn’t asked yet; he hadn’t asked and Jason kind of wants to run away—wants to avoid this conversation completely. Thinks if he doesn’t, he might just sink to the floor and never get up.

 

He doesn’t want Tim to accuse him of murder. Selfishly, he doesn’t want Tim to take Bruce’s side. But he will, he knows he will. He’s been so _stupid_. He’d known this would happen, Tim has no reason to trust him and—

 

“Jason?” He flinches back minutely—drawing in a quiet gulping breath behind his mask when Tim reaches out, hand hovering between them warily. Wonders when he’d gotten this close. “Jason? Are you okay?”

 

 _Is he okay_? He blinks and Tim is right in front of him again, concern bleeding onto his face. He touches Jason’s jacket lightly, hands brushing so softly he can barely feel it through the Kevlar of his uniform. Jason hold’s back another flinch, stands stiffly as Tim takes another step closer. “Jay?”

 

He feels trapped—he’s not, he has the entire room at his back, he could get away, _run away_ , anytime but—it feels like the rooms wrapped its walls around him. Or maybe just Tim, like he’s frozen him to the floor with his gaze alone.

 

He doesn’t make a conscious decision when he blurts, “Aren’t you gonna ask me?” Because, yes now that he thinks about it, why isn’t Tim asking him? Why is he even here? Shouldn’t Tim be kicking him out?

 

But he’s not. He’s just hovering in front of him, confusion marring his brow—lips pursed in _concern_. Why would— “Ask you what?”

 

And again, his mouth is moving before he can tell it to, “If I killed them.”

 

Tim’s eyebrows pinch together even more, opens his mouth—voice coming out soft, “You didn’t kill them, I know you didn’t kill them.” His eyes flicker from side to side, seeming to study Jason even while his mask stays in place—it feels like a blessing as much as a curse. “You haven’t killed in months as far as I can tell... Jason—are you okay?”

 

The statics still buzzing in his head, but it’s quiet behind his thoughts. Silenced by the surety in Tim’s words. He takes a breath and let’s his body ease at his next exhale, melting into itself. “I’m—”

 

But whatever he was about to say gets lost, their attention drawn away to Tim’s computer as it pings quite loudly in notification from where it’s sat forgotten on the counter. Tim frowns at it, looks back to Jason for a long second before tearing his gaze away. Turns to walk towards the computer.

 

Jason follows behind him, footsteps resounding softly against the floor. Tim doesn’t waste anytime turning the screen around, eyes and hands working to understand what’s happened—though his eyes do stray towards Jason—where he’s stood over his shoulder—a couple of times, the only outward sign of his continued worry.

 

His face becomes more and more drawn as he reads, mouth a set frown. “Tim?” His eyes narrow but otherwise doesn’t respond so Jason tries again, “Tim?”

 

This time he does glance up, opening his mouth to explain, “I was running some checks—to try and figure out who _actually_ killed those men. I’ve just got a hit and...” His voice trails off, eyes getting distracted again by whatever information's displayed on screen.

 

Jason’s face started to imitate Tim’s, a foreboding feeling settling in his chest. “Tim? What is it?”

 

“It’s...” He trailed of again, eyes scanning the screen quickly, “I just ran some scans on the scene and areas—I got a hit for three of our guys. They could be rivals, but if they’re not...” He looks up at Jason. “The cases might be related.” There’s a pause as the idea settles in the air and yeah, of course Jason can’t be so lucky as to not get involved with Bruce.

 

Tim continues though, face a bleak mask, “This may not be _just_ a drug trafficking case.” He looks at Jason, scans the screen again like he’s double checking something, or maybe just delaying voicing whatever he seems intent to. “Jason—” he starts hesitantly, “B’s case... It’s a suspected child trafficking case...” The implications hang in the air like dead weight, but Tim’s not done.

 

“Jason, they could be stealing _kids_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So whadda ya think? I've been leading up to the helmet thing for a while but I'm still a little worried it might be kinda sudden. Did you notice Jason hadn't taken his helmet off or nah, I'm curious. Plus! Anxiety and Jason, what are your thoughts? I definitely think it's a big fat yes, but I really want to know what you guys think!
> 
> And, oh no, a cliff hanger! I feel super terrible but it had to be done. Oh man, *covers eyes* I can't look! (I had to stop myself writing in reactions, but I did it, it's done; we have a cliff hanger!)
> 
> But anyywayyy, this chapter has been a bit more plotty, do you like it? Am I keeping up with the banter?? Any recommendations?? And Tim's code name, any suggestions?? Please comment and tell me!! As always I love receiving prompts, give me one and I'll write it in!


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